Bloody Positive
by EiriTheBear
Summary: Harry is destined for a constant slew of danger, yet is always rescued by a vampire named Virgil. With his, Hermione's and Draco's help, they might make a future for the Wizarding World yet. AU SLASH Work in Progress. HPOC DMHG Creature Romancefic
1. The Vampire Named Virgil

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and am not gaining any sort of profit from writing and publishing these on .**

**Author's Notes: I'm Sorry I'm springing this one up while I'm still writing the other one. I'm just so frustrated that I couldn't write anything at the moment, and my mind begged for something else. So here you go, on with the story!**

**HP  
**

Harry had taken to staring at the stars once he figured out how to sneak out at nights without being noticed by the Dursleys. Somehow the cool summer air and the tickle of the grass reminded him of the back yard at Grimmauld Place, and how he and Sirius used to sneak out themselves. Sirius would turn into Snuffles and gambol around Harry as he lay back in the yard, and roll over to relish the feel of grass combing his skin. Harry would laugh when Sirius made a fool of himself and licked Harry's face. He'd be grossed out and Sirius would bark happily ...

Even after two months the memories plagued him, and he once again found himself with tears. Wiping at them angrily, he sat up and buried his head in his hands. The wind created waves along the grass, brushing against him softly. The image of Sirius' eyes dulling out as he fell into the Veil was indelibly etched into his mind.

And then a hand touched his shoulder.

Harry jumped; physical training from the DA honed his skills so much so that it was second nature for him to barrel roll and whip his wand out in a flash.

He still had tear streaks on his face, but they were coming from wary, frustrated eyes. He didn't ever want anyone to see him cry—nobody ever saw him cry apart from the Dursleys and Dumbledore—and the presence of someone in the Dursleys' back yard instantly sent a spark of anger and panic through him.

"Harry Potter. There's no need for alarm," the intimidating figure said in an unmistakably male voice, as he held his hands up. He donned a cloak that covered his entire body, only letting his face be seen.

"Who are you?" Harry said, in as much of a commanding voice as he could muster without crumbling.

"I am ... a friend."

"_Incarceous!_" Harry said, and ropes shot out of his wand and bound the intruder. He remained standing however, and he didn't struggle in the ropes.

"You could be a Death Eater," Harry said, getting on his feet and sizing up the intruder.

"You shouldn't have done that. You're still underage."

"What?" Harry said, his eyebrows knitting together.

"You're underage. Meaning, you still have the Ministry trace on you. You do any magic and Aurors will come after you."

Harry had not thought that out, and it got him more frustrated than he was already.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" he demanded again, channeling his anger on that instead.

"My name is Virgil. I was sent by my master to capture you."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, you're not doing a very good job, are you?"

Virgil quirked his lips in amusement. "No, I'm not."

His eyes turned serious as he looked at Harry. "You were upset. I wasn't about to stun you and drag you off like that."

Harry colored slightly, and cocked his head to one side. "Who is your master? He wouldn't happen to be Voldemort, would he?"

Harry noticed Virgil flinch slightly at the name. "No, my master is not Voldemort. I'm not a Death Eater, either. Master Lorcan sent me. He thinks you are in danger.'

"Danger? All my Wizarding life I was in direct danger. What makes your master think that?"

"Just ... look, would you let me capture you already?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And why would I let you do that?"

"Because," he smiled, and Harry was taken aback for a second. "I could save you."

Fangs. Unmistakable fangs of a vampire shined from Virgil's rosy mouth, and Harry, to his own surprise, wasn't afraid.

Virgil's head turned swiftly to the trees. "Harry, release me. The Aurors are here."

For all Harry trained for, his head didn't snap back to the reality of the situation quicker than it would have.

"Harry!" Virgil yelled.

"What's all the ruckus out here!" Vernon Dursley was wedging himself out of the kitchen back door. "Boy! What are you doing out at this time of the night?"

Lights flashed from the trees, and a few curses made it's way towards the two, narrowly missing them and catching the grass, ripping out patches of it from the earth.

"Hurry!" Virgil cried again, now trying to worm himself out of the ropes.

"Oh, right!" he said the counter spell and the ropes vanished, and Virgil whipped out a wand of his own.

"_Everte Maxima!_" Virgil said, throwing as much force into the spell. It sent a wave of magic that went through the trees and hit the robed figures emerging, knocking them on their feet. He then swiftly took Harry in a hug, which alarmed Harry for a second, and they sank into the shadows.

They emerged from the shadow of an oak five blocks down, and Harry saw the Dursley's house explode. Above the scene Harry saw the familiar glowing green symbol of the Dark Mark—an eerie skull with a fiery snake for a tongue.

"Death Eaters!" Harry said in shock.

"Told you. Danger," Virgil winked at Harry, and threw the boy behind him.

"You said they were Aurors —Hey! What are you—"

"I'm kidnapping you. This time I'm gonna do it right," he smirked as he fished a necklace from inside his robes, and said a word to it. It glowed, and they were gone.

**HP**

Harry was still struggling from Virgil's strong grip when they Portkeyed into an unfamiliar room.

"Hey! Let me down!" Harry demanded, and he as unceremoniously dumped onto a bed.

"Relax! I'm not going to hurt you, remember?" Virgil said, holding his hands up again.

"Where'd you take me?" Harry asked, looking around the room. It was pretty generic, the place, with a bed, a closet, a table and chairs.

"We're at the Leaky Cauldron. Don't worry. You're fine now."

Harry was breathing heavily, a bit of adrenaline coursing still through his veins. Death Eaters had magically bombarded the Dursleys house. They couldn't have survived it. He had also tripped the Trace Charm, so that would mean Aurors, and soon the whole Wizarding World will know he's missing.

"How could they attack me? I—Dumbledore said I'm safe there!"

Virgil scoffed. "You really think Dumbledore has your best interests at heart at the moment? Please."

"Of course he does! He—well," Harry stopped, and he knew he'd be stupidly looking for answers to spit out and counter Virgil if he kept running his mouth. Why exactly was he contesting the idea that he had been mulling over for the past two months? Was it because somebody else said it to his face rather than hearing it in his thoughts and just dismissing them?

"'Well' indeed. Tell me, how was your summer, Harry? Was it all honey and roses?" Virgil asked mockingly.

Harry's expression slowly changed from relentlessly stubborn to dawning comprehension and hurt.

Virgil sighed and sat down the bed, next to Harry who was staring at the floor, lost in his thoughts, mouth trembling slightly.

"I'm sorry. Look, you're staying here for a while. I have your owl and your trunk with your things right here. You can't stay with them anymore. It's not good for you."

It was the second time that night that Harry found himself crying, but at least it was in the presence of a comforting shoulder.

**HP**

"What are you doing?" Virgil asked when he emerged from the shower, wearing only a towel.

Harry scratched a few more lines down the parchment. "I'm writing to someone. You don't mind if I invite a friend, do you?"

Virgil's face turned serious again, and Harry looked up from the parchment. "Fine. As long as the person could be trusted."

Harry stared at Virgil for a second too long and hastily brought his eyes from the flat contours of Virgil's stomach back to the parchment, scribbling furiously while blushing.

"They've been calling you the Chosen One. And those who aren't Death Eaters, but are sympathizers to the Dark Lord's goals, want you dead as well." There was a tone of forlorn in Virgil's deep voice.

"That's a comforting thought," Harry said sarcastically.

"But, if you should know. The Order isn't to keen on keeping you alive, either." Virgil donned a wool shirt and fished out some trousers from his own trunk, before going back inside the bathroom to change.

Harry was flummoxed. The Order wants him dead? Why would they?

"What do you mean? The Order needs me for that reason itself—they need a Chosen One!"

Harry wondered how old the vampire was, then resolved that that would be stupid to ask, because they don't age. But Virgil seemed to be quite ... fit, Harry failed not to take note, and he wanted to ask anything at all just to hear that low voice again.

Virgil came out of the shower fully dressed, rubbing a towel over his shaggy, dirty blonde hair.

"Master told me that that isn't the case. They find you a threat, easily succumbing to the Dark Lord's manipulations."

Harry was overcome with a deeper sense of loathing for Dumbledore, and betrayal from the rest of the Order. "When will I meet this master of yours?"

"Master would come to see you any day now, Harry. Best be prepared," Virgil said casually, looking out the Muggle London side window.

"What does your master— Lord Lorcan, is it?—want with me?" Harry asked, his eyes fixed on Virgil's form.

"He wants to make a deal. A ... proposition, of sorts, regarding the tide of the war. It's very crucial that you meet with him."

Silence reigned over the room for a minute as Harry, revised his letter, and then tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. The white owl gave an excited hoot as he was set free to deliver the letter, and Harry closed the window to the room and faced Virgil again—he was looking at Harry in a very normal way, yet Harry felt his skin crawling as Virgil looked him over.

When Harry couldn't take the silence anymore, he made to ask, "How—How old are you, Virgil?"

Virgil raised his eyebrows as he smiled at Harry. "I can't be more than twenty-one. Recently turned, actually. But I was bitten at seventeen."

"Oh," Harry said. _No wonder he looks quite young. Wait ... stop it with those thoughts, Harry!_

"Why are you shaking your head like that?" Virgil asked, amused. Virgil had this uncanny shade of yellow-orange as eye color, that glowed into vivid and deep orbs when they focused on something.

Harry pushed his slipping glasses back up his nose, blushing as he did. "I—nothing."

"No, really! What is it?" Virgil pressed, walking towards Harry and smirking.

"It's nothing!" Harry cried as he ran for the door.

He remembered putting on a glamour in time before he reached the bottom of the steps, only to run into an all-too-familiar blonde head.

"Merlin, watch it!" Draco Malfoy said, and Harry almost instinctively retorted after his butt hit the floor.

"Uh, sorry," Harry said, glamoured up as some brown-haired teenager.

Malfoy sighed. "It can't be helped, I guess. Be careful next time."

Malfoy held a hand for Harry to grasp, and Harry looked taken aback for a second before taking it. Standing up, he analyzed the blonde git.

Malfoy seemed the worst he did for wear. His hair was a mess, not like the usual slicked-back-and-flawless way but rather all over the place, and he was wearing less-than-grandiose clothing. Harry never took Malfoy for a person who wears Muggle jeans. If he did, he doesn't see the blonde as someone who wears tattered, old ones that made Harry think Malfoy had a blubbery cousin too, where he gets hand-me-downs from. But there he was, wearing them, along with a simple shirt and trainers. In short, he played the part of 'little shit' quite perfectly in his current state. Harry found himself liking Malfoy's new look.

But the bigger change was in Malfoy's expression. It wasn't high and mighty like it used to be, but rather troubled and confused. It made Harry think something monumental must have happened to the Slytherin for a change that drastic to have happened.

Malfoy nodded to Harry and made a dash up the stairs, disappearing into a room.

Harry did not understand why Malfoy would be staying in a place as dingy as the Leaky Cauldron, and resolved to investigate.

Embarrassment aside, Harry returned to their rooms, where Virgil was practicing spells on a dummy he conjured.

"Back so soon? Where did you run off to?" Virgil commented, throwing a powerful _Expulso _towards the dummy, which slammed against the wall and smashed. It quickly rebuilt itself back a few seconds after.

"Listen. I'm going out without a glamour—well, not going out. Just across the hall. I know someone there. Is it alright with you?"

Virgil seemed to be internally debating whether to consider Harry's request, but decided to nod jerkily instead.

"I'm coming with you. For safety."

Harry rolled his eyes. "That's fine, oh mighty bodyguard."

Virgil's features softened as he chuckled.

It was then that Harry found himself knocking on Malfoy's door, next to a none-too-wary Virgil. Movement came from inside the room, and the door was flung open, revealing a very distraught Malfoy.

"You!" In a blink of the eye he had his wand out and a curse out of his mouth.

"_Defodio!_"

"_Protego!_" Virgil countered, and a translucent blue barrier came between Harry and Malfoy.

"_Reducto!_" Draco cast, and the shield exploded into dust, but Harry had already cast a forceful _Expelliarmus_, causing Malfoy's wand to shoot to Harry's hand.

Another _Incarceous _and they had Malfoy bound and on the floor.

"What do you want, Potter? What are you doing here?" he spat.

"I want answers," Harry replied cheekily, and moved Malfoy to the bed with his wand.

"Find something amusing, Harry?" Virgil said, sitting on one of the chairs.

"I just find Malfoy tied and on a bed funny."

"What? You crazy bastard," Draco said, struggling against the ropes.

"So," Harry said, approaching with less vehemence than he was used to. "What happened? Why are you living here in the Leaky Cauldron?"

Draco looked torn between wishing himself dead and spilling his guts out.

"I ran away," Draco said easily.

"You're lying. Tell me," Harry pressed, sitting on the bed. Draco's face showed turmoil, and then the blonde sighed dejectedly.

"I—was kicked out of the Manor."

"Hmm. Why?" Harry questioned, as Virgil started playing with a stray string on his shirt.

"Because ... I refused the Dark Lord," Malfoy conceded.

Harry's eyes widened a bit, but then something unexpected happened. He found himself smiling.

"That's ... good, Malfoy. You're good."

He released the ropes and let Malfoy sit up.

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Potter?"

Harry hesitated. "I mean, you know. You have no one else to turn to, I take it?"

Malfoy stared at Harry. "Are you mad?"

"No, I'm making sense for once. What do you say to allying yourself to me?"

"With you? That's like my declaring fealty to the Light side!"

Harry stood up, and crossed his arms. "Well, no. It seems I'm not on the Light side anymore."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. "What? So you're _Dark_ now?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm neither. Grey perhaps. Or teal. I always liked teal."

"You're insane, Potter," Malfoy exclaimed.

"That's the third time you called me bonkers, Malfoy. Call me Harry instead."

Malfoy stared at him again, as if leeks had jutted out from his ears. "We're really doing this?"

"I guess so," Harry nodded, and smiled.

"Alright, Harry. But it will take some time for you to earn calling me by my first name," Malfoy said jokingly.

"That's fine. I'll call you Dray, 'til then."

"Did you just give me a _nickname_, Potter?"

"Yes, Dray."

"Stop calling me that! It's plebeian."

"_Ehem. _If you two don't mind, I'd like to formally introduce myself," Virgil casually threw in from across the room. He stood up, intimidating in his presence, and smiled, albeit a bit viciously. At this Draco gasped, and Harry rolled his eyes at Virgil. It seemed as though Virgil has a habit of making people know of his vampiric existence by smiling.

"My name is Virgil d'Eath," he said, standing next to Harry and glaring. "And I'm, you know, a vampire. A fanged vampire. A fanged, magic wielding vampire who would so much _obliterate _you if you made the wrong decision of hurting Harry."

"That's one way to break the ice, uh, thanks, Virgil," Harry said as he rolled his eyes once again.

"Roll those again and they'd roll back into your head," Virgil teased, changing expressions in a snap.

"Ho-kay, this is weird. Why are you with a vampire, Po-Harry?"

"Long story," Harry muttered, a clear indication that he didn't want to talk about it. Virgil put a hand on his shoulder.

"I think we should go back to our rooms. I'll fill you up on the information then," Virgil said, guiding Harry out the door and motioning for Draco to follow.

"I'm Malfoy, by the way. Draco Malfoy," Draco tried to act friendly.

"Yes, I know quite a bit about your shady Father," Virgil said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible without cracking Harry's shoulder as they walked down the hall.

"That's ... good? I guess." Draco could describe the situation in many, colorful, disturbing ways. 'Good' was most certainly not one of them.

**HP**

Once Draco was filled in, which took all night, they had Tom move Draco's rooms to the one next to theirs for easier access. The next morning, Malfoy had initiated a bonding ritual, with Virgil as a designated bonder.

"I, Draco Lucien Malfoy, herefore swear fealty to Harry James Potter, swearing servitude and good will, in exchange for his protection, until his or my life ends by time's hand, or my own, should I break my oath."

They were then discussing many Disillusionments and disguises to keep themselves hidden from the Wizarding World. After all, Both of them are wanted dead or alive, most probably dead. And Virgil was a vampire, so, there.

"So, let me get this straight. The Death Eaters want to kill you because of your 'traitorous, cowardly exit from the clutches of the Dark Lord'?" Virgil asked, sneering.

"Well, if you put it that way. It does sound like I deserve to die for leaving them," Draco said offhandedly. He wasn't taking offense regarding anything Virgil had thrown at him so far, and for that Harry was highly amazed. How much Draco really has changed he is yet to find out.

"Oh, shut it, Virgil. Draco, you were very brave for leaving those bastards," Harry said firmly.

"Thanks, Potter," Draco replied, raising a glass to salute him. Virgil glared some more.

"Oh, stop it, Virgil. Draco's fine. He's not going to AK me on the spot."

"Yes, but—"

"No."

"He might—"

"Drop it," Harry warned, and Virgil mumbled something entirely rude and sulked in his chair.

"Now, one of my best friends is coming here by Muggle bus," Harry said.

"Oh, it couldn't be Weasel, then. Must be the Mud—"

Harry had forcefully clapped a hand over Draco's mouth and glared fiercely.

"If you ever mention that word to her I would juice your balls, Malfoy."

Draco nodded fearfully, covering his bits with his hands.

"Fine! Granger, then." Harry nodded.

"I've filled her in on minor details, meaning she doesn't know I'm with you, Virgil," he looked at the vampire, "and much less that she knows you're here," he glanced at Draco. "Meaning, if she's still under the Order's influence, we can incapacitate her and modify her memories."

"Ooh! We're hexing Granger. It's Hogwarts all over again!"

"That is, if she's uncooperative, Draco. Don't go off shooting curses at her when she arrives. She can own your arse in a snap."

"I'd like to see her try," Draco said, sniffing.

After a very strained lunch where Virgil wouldn't relent glaring at Draco's pointy face, at a quarter to two, a knock came from the door.

"Who is it?" Harry said in an altered pitch.

"It's Hermione. Hermione Granger?" the telltale sound of Hermione's voice echoed through the room. Draco was giggling uncontrollably under the bed, and Virgil was in the bathroom.

"What did we use to save Buckbeak and Sirius?" he asked through the door.

"We used a Time-Turner, Harry, and rescued Buckbeak from McNair, and used him to get Sirius."

Harry opened the door and was smothered with brown, bushy hair.

"Harry! I'm so glad to see you!" Hermione cried. She was really crying, tears brimming in her eyes, and Harry took a moment to look at her confusedly.

"I didn't understand at all—I heard a house on Privet Drive exploded, and I just _knew_—Oh, Harry! I'm glad you're safe!"

He sat her down on the bed as she fussed over his health and his hair.

"Hermione, I need to tell you something—"

"All right, but first I have to tell you! I was at the Order yesterday, and well, something shady's afoot."

"What do you mean?" Harry had a feeling he knew where she was going.

"They were going on about ensuring your safety in your relatives' house, and were planning ways of penetrating the charm, but then Ron said," she sniffed, and more tears bloomed from her eyes, "Ron said you don't consider that place a home anymore. That tipped them off somehow, and then—"

"—then I got attacked. By hooded figures," Harry finished for her. Harry laughed then, a sick, humorless laugh.

"Who else would know that the protections are gone, but the Order? So they really do want me dead," Harry said, shaking his head at the absurdity of his trusting Dumbledore.

"More than likely. But they kind of caught me eavesdropping on their conversation—"

Harry's eyes widened. "What? So what happened?"

"I blew part of the house down with _Bombarda_. They chased me up to the top, and I blasted the roof open. Molly would have none of it, and tried to k-kill me, but I cast a coughing curse on the attic floor, and levitated myself so that no one could cast anything while I figure out a way to get out. Ron almost got me with a dagger, but I managed to avoid it. And so I thought desperately, and in that panic—"

Hermione disappeared from the bed and a flamingo appeared, startling Harry. As soon as the pink feathered bird appeared it vanished, to be replaced by Hermione again.

"I discovered my Animagus form!" Hermione said, ending her story with a teary laugh.

"That's great news, Hermione!" he said sincerely as she hugged her again.

"But now, I really have something to tell you—"

"Gotcha!" Someone under the bed exclaimed as he got hold of Hermione's foot. She shrieked, and then jumped on the bed.

"Who _is _that?" she asked Harry, and Draco was chuckling furiously from under the bed.

"It's ... Draco."

"_What? _Malfoy?"

"Yes. He's on my side now," Harry stated. Hermione stared at him in the similar way Draco had with their encounter.

"Bwahaha, the look on your face, Granger!" Draco cried as he crawled out from under the bed. He was laughing so hard he was clutching at his sides.

"Oh, very funny, Malfoy!" Hermione said indignantly.

"Well, yes. That's half of what I was gonna say, actually. Draco's sworn fealty to me."

"So ... he's technically your servant now?" Hermione smirked.

"Watch it, Granger," Draco warned, whipping out his wand.

"Oh, really, Draco. We've been through this. No hexing."

"But you said this was half of what you were going to say, Harry. What's the other one? You're not going to tell me there's a burgeoning romance between you and Malfoy, are you?" she said jokingly, which was met with much protest.

"Whaa? Of course not!"

"Potter? That's entirely absurd beyond comprehension!"

"I certainly hope not!" growled a third party, which emerged from the bathroom looking thoroughly irritated. Hermione gaped at him in surprise.

"Ah, Hermione. This is Virgil. He's a—"

"Vampire! I know. The gaunt features and the pale skin alerted me," Hermione said.

"Of course she knows," Draco said mockingly, throwing his hands up in the air and rolling his eyes.

"But what is he doing here?" Hermione asked, curious.

"He's—" Harry made to answer, but Virgil beat him to it.

"I'm here to protect Harry from harm, at the very least until my Master comes," Virgil said curtly, standing by Harry once again.

Harry for the umpteenth time deigned to make his eyes roll, and once again Virgil called him to it. They went off to explain the situation to Hermione, who was firing off questions at a much quicker rate than they were presenting answers, which annoyed Draco to no end, so much so that Draco wanted to leave the room and get some food.

At six in the evening they all went down covered in glamours for some dinner, Virgil not eating anything at all. Harry wanted to ask but Virgil seemed to be keeping to himself as Draco and Hermione bickered.

Hermione got a room for herself next to Draco's and had settled in for the night before deciding to plan their next course of action, and Draco had gone out to pickpocket, which shocked Harry (once again he didn't take Draco for someone who stole), so that he could do some well earned retail-therapy.

Leaving Harry alone in his room with a very reclusive Virgil.

"Virgil ... are you all right?" Harry asked tentatively. The vampire was startled out of his reverie, and he rapidly shook his head.

"I noticed you didn't eat today," Harry said. Virgil smiled humorlessly.

"I'm a vampire, Harry."

"I know that, you dolt. You've proven it countless times."

They stared at each other for a second, and then Harry stepped closer Virgil, and hugged the lean vampire.

"Harry? What ..." Virgil spluttered, his skin turning as flushed as it could.

"Bite," Harry muttered briefly.

"Harry—" Virgil tried to protest.

"Look, you're starving, I'm willing. You do the math, Virgil."

"I don't want to be a burden," Virgil admitted, his arms curling just a little bit tighter around Harry's small form.

Harry breathed, and consequently took a whiff of Virgil's heady scent.

"Just, eat. Please. For me," Harry said softly.

Reluctantly, Virgil trailed his lips down Harry's jugular, looking for that perfect spot. Harry closed his eyes as Virgil's lips made contact with skin, and Harry's breath hitched.

"I'm sorry," Virgil muttered to Harry's neck, before his fangs sprang forth and pierced the skin. Harry gasped in pain, but then as Virgil drank, the pain receded, only to be replaced by a tingling sensation, pooling slowly down at the pit of his stomach.

Without realizing it, Harry moaned softly, and Virgil's strong arms tightened around him, not too tight, but rather securing. Harry did not realize he was aroused, and if he did, he couldn't have distinguished what caused it—whether from having the handsome vampire flush against him or from the feeding.

Before long, Harry had spontaneously ejaculated in his trousers, and his orgasm hit him quite hard, so much so that his knees gave in and he fell in Virgil's arms.

"Wow," Harry breathed, looking at the vampire.

"I'm sorry," Virgil muttered again, seeming very sick of himself.

"It's all right, okay?" Harry said, chuckling softly. He suddenly felt a wave of fatigue wash over him.

"I've drained you a bit too much. I ... you taste phenomenal, I'm really sorry," Virgil said, carrying Harry towards the bed.

"'Salright, Virgil," Harry mumbled. Virgil laid him down gently, resting Harry's head on his arm as he followed. He looked at Harry, really studied Harry's features, and smiled in a content manner.

"Good night, Harry."

...

**TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! :) REVIEW!**


	2. Lord Lorcan

**Notes: I didn't get this proofread! Haha, I just got really pissy-excited about getting this online. I finished this at 2:30am, and I have classes tomorrow. but whatever! Screw Microbiology and Calculus. :P**

HP**  
**

Harry woke up the next day feeling well rested. Beside him Virgil was snoring loudly, and somehow that made Harry smile. He made to get up, but the slight movement made him feel the crusting stickiness in his trousers.

He then remembered that he had fallen asleep directly after an orgasm. He thought that it should be a triumphant feeling he should be experiencing, because of the whole reaching climax in the arms of another person factor, but it was _Virgil_. He felt nothing but embarrassment at practically moaning Virgil's ear off. And neither of them were naked or properly prepared/anticipating anything to happen, so that doesn't count at all as sex.

Harry blushed at the mention of sex. Sure, he had no qualms yelling it at the top of his lungs in the middle of a Muggle mall, but when it came to the intimacy and passion that tagged along with it, Harry couldn't think straight. It was _Virgil. _He barely knew the vampire._  
_

Yet, despite Harry having just met him, Harry already knew he was quite attracted to vampire. The words 'I'm sorry' kept playing in his mind, however, and he couldn't help but translate it to 'I'm sorry I'm making you horny without any attachments involved—don't worry, I have nothing planned'.

And why was he jumping to many conclusions? He shouldn't be! He shook his head frantically. No. If something was ever going to happen, he'd just let it flow, let things run, let it all happen naturally ...

And yet, he couldn't stop thinking. Instead, he slapped himself, and made for the bathroom to clean his undergarments.

HP

_Harry Potter, I swear if you spend another second thinking about that arse I'll smack you._

Hermione wondered why Harry suddenly slapped himself over breakfast. They were once again discussing diversionary tactics in case anyone found out they were in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Where's Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"He was back late from pickpocketing," she said.

Virgil, who chose not to accompany them to eat, had gotten back however, with news that his Master had contacted him.

"He'll be coming today, I reckon. He wants lunch with us. I've told him of your friends," Virgil said. He seemed to be avoiding Harry's eyes, but Harry had so far not noticed it partaking. He was too focused on not looking, after all.

Virgil sat down and put his hands behind the chair.

"All right. Since Harry and Draco are being hunted, I've already prepared measures of escape should we need one," Hermione said, "Also—this is really disheartening—but since you two are, once again, being hunted, I don't think we'll be going back to Hogwarts."

Harry made a choking noise while drinking some milk, and Virgil patted his back.

"I guessed that would happen," Harry said solemnly. Unable to resist, Virgil replied.

"And yet you breathed the milk in when you heard it," Virgil said cheekily. Harry playfully batted his head away.

"I've read the Prophet today, and it's very disturbing. The Death Eaters are freely committing crimes now, with more incidents in the Muggle World than ours." Hermione took out the Prophet, glancing at it worriedly.

"Ever since Voldemort's officially declared reappearance, everyone's been paranoid. Additional security measures all over Diagon Alley. Any form of Disillusionment would simply not work anymore, which makes buying supplies difficult. Thankfully, we're brewing a lot of Polyjuice."

Draco, with his sleeves up, made his way down the stairs and joined the three.

"I've started the batches. However, it'll take a month to complete," he said, taking some toast from Harry.

"Hey! That was mine," Harry cried.

"Get your own, Draco," Virgil said warningly. Draco paid no heed and ate the toast, sticking his tongue out at the two.

"Now," Hermione said seriously, "I really, really hope we wouldn't have to move any day in that time period. It would be hard to move a brewing cauldron."

Draco and Harry nodded, while Virgil snapped his head up.

"That's ... weird. He's here already," he said, looking at Harry. Harry gulped, and then nodded.

"Shall we meet this vampire lord?"

HP

Upstairs, Harry was shocked to find a striking man hunched over his trunk and throwing stuff out.

"Hey! Those are my things you're mindlessly throwing!" Harry said indignantly. Hermione was catching whatever was flung out of the trunk with her wand.

"Is it in here? Where the fuck is it ... ?" the man said desperately, until he said a very indicative 'aha!'.

Harry stared in horror as the man drank his vials of dragon blood.

Virgil sighed. "Sorry, Harry. He's a dragon blood addict."

"Oh, man. I definitely need to buy loads of that," the man said jovially.

"Uhm ..." Hermione said, looking at Virgil questioningly.

"Err, this is my Master, Lord Lorcan d'Eath. He's also my Sire, the vampire who turned me."

They all stared at the eccentric vampire, who was licking any trace of dragon's blood of his lips.

"Well, hello there! You must be Harry," he said to Draco.

"Err ..." Draco said, edging away from Lorcan, and looking at Harry for help.

"Well, no, master. Harry's right here," Virgil said, taking Harry by the shoulders.

"Oh! No wonder I smelled ol' Virge all over you!"

At this comment Harry and Virgil simultaneously flushed, and Draco and Hermione coughed/choked on nothing.

"Right then. The Boy Who Lived. Let me get a good look at you ..." he took Harry and surveyed him from head to toe. "Well, this is very nice. Supple, young and vibrant, powerful too, yes ... you'd make a fine mate."

"A _what_!" all three of the mortal teens said at the same time.

"Ah well, nothing. We'll get to that later, right now, some news!" he said cheerily. Harry wouldn't stop thinking about what he had just said however.

Lord Lorcan told them that You-Know-Who had made contact with him lately, asking his small coven of vampires to ally with him in exchange for additional vampire rights when he had succeeded in capturing Britain.

"Of course, seeing as every other coven had outright refused to aid the Dark Lord's regime in anyway, and listlessly wasted their lives in the process, I accepted."

The three made a move to voice their violent reactions, but Lorcan had raised his hand to quiet them.

"I know, I know. I'm technically allied with the Dark Lord right now. However, I have every intent to see the man—or creature, as he looked completely ghastly—dead one day, whether by my hand or someone else's."

"So my master's basically saying he's using this as a ploy to get close to the Dark Lord," Virgil said smugly. He seemed very proud of Lorcan somewhat, and that sparked some sort of jealous monster inside Harry.

_What the hell is wrong with you? Get a grip! No doubt he thinks of Lorcan as a father!  
_

"Err, um, so, what brings me to the table?" Harry asked, shaking his head for the umpteenth time and looking very interested on his lap. Virgil once again looked at him in an amused way.

"Are you daft, Potter? You're the 'Chosen One'!" Draco exclaimed, which got him a very unfriendly glare from Harry.

Virgil knew that Harry hated being called that. He placed a calming hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry breathed.

"Right you are, dear boy—Malfoy is it?" Lorcan queried, to which Draco nodded. Lorcan smiled and continued. "I would therefore need your young, powerful selves to aid Harry here on killing the Death Eaters, and eventually, the Dark Lord."

"Now, this will take some very well-thought out planning. And since you three are only OWLs educated I find it a responsibility to teach you myself, starting with Offensive Magic and generally anything powerful, life-saving and necessary."

To this Hermione breathed a sigh of relief—no doubt fretting how they will get any education now that they're not going to Hogwarts—and nodded eagerly to the vampire.

"Then we'll need to start immediately," Harry said suddenly, filled with renewed vigor. Virgil looked taken aback for a second, before smiling proudly at Harry. This made Harry feel some sort of fluttery excitement at seeing Virgil smile at him, that he smiled right back at Virgil.

_God, he's amazing. Oh—fuck it. Screw anything I think of. I don't care anymore._

HP

"I have great news!" Draco said enthusiastically when he entered Harry's rooms, where Lorcan was teaching the two ex-Gryffindors the theory behind Apparating. Virgil followed behind him looking very irritated. Draco had decided to scratch the lesson out because he smugly declared himself perfectly able to Apparate, which annoyed Hermione to no end when the git kept Apparating and flicking her ear then Disapparating to prove it.

"What is it?" Harry asked, his eyes forcefully closed.

"Now don't jam yourself through the Apparition portal, Harry. It's not a fruit juicer; you're supposed to squeeze easily through to the next room," Lorcan said offhandedly, filing his nails in a corner.

"Where's Hermione?" Virgil asked Harry, who was looking visibly strained.

"She's already done with the Apparition lesson," Harry said, his voice laced with petulant jealously. Draco snickered at the faces Harry was making, while Virgil laughed at how, well, how cute Harry looked. And he was very open to admitting that to himself. The problem was telling that to Harry without exploding with the blood that rushed to his face when he did.

But that was just an expression. He's technically dead, and no blood really flowed through his face anymore.

As if to mimic Draco, Hermione had appeared next to him and thumped him on the nose.

"You thumped me!" Draco cried, clutching at his nose. Hermione stuck her tongue out and disappeared.

"Granger! You little bitch! Come back here!" Draco yelled to the roof.

"Draco! Would you please keep quiet? I'm trying to concentrate here," Harry grit out, and he was no doubt doing so when his nose scrunched up while he focused.

Hermione appeared again, holding a bowl of grapes. "What's the news, then, Malfoy?"

After sending a very steely glare at bush rabbit, as he had been calling Hermione lately, he focused his attention back to Harry.

"Madam Malkins is still visitable!" he declared.

"Uh Draco? How's that news?" Harry said, sighing as he broke out of concentration and looked at the blonde exasperatedly.

"You truly are daft," Draco said without regret. "I can buy clothes! You can buy clothes! We really look like shite here, Harry!"

"Well, _you_ do, Draco," Virgil said, sneering. "Harry looks fine to me."

That got another excited inner 'whoop!' from Harry, but he had schooled his features to perfectly a normal composure.

"Oh, shut it. You don't know fashion like I do," Draco threw at him. "Now Harry, we have got to go shopping!"

"But, I don't have any money. Virgil's been paying," he glanced at the vampire, "remind me to pay you someday."

"You could easily go to Gringotts, Harry. The security there's also the same as before," Hermione said, chewing on a grape.

"Hey, give me some of those!" Draco demanded, and Hermione threw a few grapes at him.

"'Mione! Don't waste food!" Harry exclaimed, and they were both shocked when the grapes didn't make contact with the floor, but instead stayed floating in mid air.

"Um, who's doing that?" Hermione asked slowly.

"I think I am," Harry said in awe. After all, his wand was in his pocket, and his hands were all there was, open and facing the floating grapes.

"Harry, that's—well that's amazing!" Hermione exclaimed, standing up and placing the grapes on Harry's bed.

"I say," Lorcan said suddenly from his corner, "some simply astounding feat of magic there, Harry. We could make a great wizard of you yet."

Harry let go of the invisible force coming out of his hands, and the grapes fell with little thumps.

"Wow," Virgil said, looking at Harry with a new-found respect.

"Guys, don't ... look at me like that," Harry muttered, frowning and ducking his head.

Harry turned and left, Apparating out of the room.

HP

Virgil couldn't keep still at all since Harry left.

"Fuck, where the hell did he _go_?" he said hopelessly.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Draco said carefully, not keen on provoking a very upset vampire, "Potter's gotten himself out of less worrying situations."

Hermione had suggested that she and Draco take turns watching over the Polyjuice. And so she was in Draco's room, stirring the potion and whatnot. Draco on the other hand, was being taught by Lorcan the finer points of Transfigurations, and some of its Darker applications.

"Virgil," Lorcan said condescendingly, "don't you think you should calm down?"

"Shut up," he growled furiously.

Lorcan sighed and hit him on the head. Hard.

"Ow! What the hell did you do that for?" he cried indignantly, covering his head.

"Calm down! You're letting your emotions run over you again."

Virgil dragged one very strained breath of air through his lungs, then sighed heavily.

"All right. I'm calm," he muttered, burying his head in his hands.

"I think he's the one, Virgil," Lorcan said with a hint of a smile in his lips.

"I think he is, too," Virgil said dejectedly, his voice muffled by his hands.

HP

Harry returned at nightfall, holding a sack of something and looking very determined.

"Where in Merlin's name have you been!" Hermione cried, rising angrily from the table in Harry's rooms and catching one of Harry's ears in her fingers.

"Ow! Ow ow ow! 'Mione! Stop pinching!" Harry whined painfully.

She let go, and crossed her arms. "Explain yourself."

"Well ..." Harry started hesitantly, rubbing the back of his head. "Since you guys were talking about getting money from Gringotts ..."

"You didn't! And without a glamour, too! Harry Potter, that was very irresponsible and dangerous!" she hit him on the head so hard he felt dizzy and fell on the bed.

From inside the bathroom they heard a loud ripping noise, bottles hitting the floor, and a string of curses, before a very wet Virgil swung the door open, wearing once again only a towel.

Still dripping, he stared at Harry. "You're back."

Harry tried very hard not to ogle Virgil's immaculate features, and Hermione tried not to point out Harry's stunned silence.

"Uh, yeah," Harry said dumbly. "I went and got some Galleons from Gringotts."

"Err, right! Good. That's ... good," Virgil uttered. He looked at a loss for words, not knowing what to do as he leaned on the door for a second, before disappearing into the bathroom again.

Harry was blushing for a moment, before he shook himself out of his reverie. It seemed to be a common occurrence since he met Virgil—his shaking his head to dispel any uncompromisable thoughts.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, thoughts forming in her head.

Soon they all turned in for the night, with Harry feeling extremely awkward sharing a bed with Virgil, who seemed to not be moving an inch.

HP

"Harry. Wake up! WAKE UP!" Draco yelled in his ear. He gasped, jolting up from sleep and falling off the bed.

"Draco, you shitty ferret! I was sleeping!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

"What's going on?" Harry grunted, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"You got money from Gringotts, didn't you?" Draco asked excitedly.

Harry looked suspiciously at him for a second. "Yeah, why?"

Before he knew it, Draco had dragged and thrown him into the shower faster than you could say You-Know-Who, throwing along a towel and random change of clothes. Draco then locked him inside.

"You won't get out of there until you're showered and ready, Harry! I'm going down for breakfast!" Draco said mischievously.

"You wouldn't dare! Draco! Draco? You fucking git!"

HP

It was a very grumpy, wet-haired Harry who came down for breakfast, a thoroughly hexed Draco trailing behind him.

"I was gonna let you free, you twat," Draco commented, rubbing his sore arse.

"You deserved it, git," he growled, sitting next to Virgil, who had laid some porridge in front of him, which he gratefully accepted.

Virgil looked at him worriedly. "Did you sleep okay? You wouldn't stop moving and muttering in your sleep."

Harry shook his head. "To be honest, no."

Hermione's head peeked out from the Daily Prophet. "It's his nightmares. He'd always been getting them. He's fairly sleepless most of the time."

Virgil knit his eyebrows together and asked. "But two days ago, you didn't ..."

Harry knew why—it was because then, he was sleeping quite close to Virgil, and he could feel the vampire's presence in his dreams. It was one of those rare occasions when Harry felt very content before sleeping, when his worries left him as he closed his eyes.

"We get to go to Madam Malkins today!" Draco said with barely contained excitement. Hermione rolled her eyes and dropped the Prophet, exchanging it for a book. She wasn't eating, making Harry think she had woken up early and done so already.

"I'll do the harder glamours. I particularly love toying with appearances," Lorcan who had emerged from the bar, sat and eyed Virgil and Harry. Virgil was still glancing at Harry from time to time, and Lorcan couldn't resist smirking.

'I told you' he mouthed to Virgil while Harry argued with Draco about the necessity of buying new clothes.

'Shut up,' was the words Virgil's mouth formed back.

"I'm coming with. Heaven knows Harry here might bolt again," Virgil said firmly. Harry glanced at him confusedly for a while, before dropping his gaze.

HP

Harry found himself looking ridiculous as a redhead; he never knew how uncannily awkward he looked wearing red hair. It was an ingenious ploy both by Hermione and Lorcan that they just conjure wigs, make up and contact lenses instead of using magic. They had schooled Harry's features such that he filled in a bit more, but not too much that whatever he bought at Madam Malkins won't fit him right when he was back to normal.

Draco decided he wanted to look as aristocratic as ever, and employed a glamoured, perfectly coiffed brown head of hair, and changed his pointiness with a little Transfiguration, along with more graceful eyebrows and a stubble.

"I look hot," Draco casually commented to himself as he appreciated his reflection.

"I still look like shite," Harry said bluntly. He looked at Virgil hopefully, for any encouraging comment.

Virgil grinned. "You're right. You do look rather horrible."

Harry pouted and looked put out.

"I kind of liked your hair better as dark and messy."

Harry nodded, but inside he was doing intense tumbles and back flips.

HP

They entered Diagon Alley with as much of a casual, neutral presence as possible. They couldn't help feeling all strung out; after all, Draco's and Harry's faces were posted everywhere, with Galleons as price for their heads. It was an extremely discomforting thought for Harry, who used to be incessantly badgered by the press and basically anyone who felt they deserved to speak their mind regarding the Boy-Who-Lived.

Virgil noted how tense Harry was getting as they got through a very different sort of crowd compared to Diagon Alley in the past. All of them were taut and jittery, not at all enjoying their visit to the magical shops or menageries. It was purely out of necessity that they were out, buying supplies and not indulging themselves with the more luxury-based shops.

They soon found their way to Madam Malkins, who welcomed them with the same cordiality and enthusiasm as she always did. It seemed the war didn't affect her, and Harry seemed to find some sort of comfort from that.

Draco decided to completely deck out Harry's wardrobe, from sweaters to jackets and shirts and tunics, to pants and cloaks. He was very meticulous with texture and cloths, choosing a wide variety of silks and cottons, leather and fur, wool and dragonhide. Harry also noticed Draco often had him in greens and emeralds, which he found really rich and nice to look at.

Harry had given no limit to Draco's purchase, because he had withdrawn a little over two thousand Galleons, just in case. He didn't know whether to be exasperated, or amused or irritated when Draco made him try so many things. Virgil was certainly delighted and amused, and Harry tried to sulk at him.

Draco also bought quite a lot, and Harry found himself respecting Draco's sense of style even more. Draco had pickpocketed enough money, but he managed to perfectly balance practicality, quality and price.

After a very tiring afternoon they had bought and shrunk into their pockets everything they can, and exited Madam Malkins. It was almost a harmless way back to the Leaky Cauldron, if it weren't for Draco suddenly seeing a very enticing garment at Twilfitt and Tatting's.

"Harry, check this out! I bet it would look positively _gorgeous_ on you ..." he had mistakenly entered the establishment, and all his glamourwork melted, revealing Draco Malfoy to the store owner and the crowd.

What happened then was pure chaos. People started yelling Draco's name, and shooting spells at him. Virgil was already incapacitating some of them, and Harry soon joined the skirmish, throwing many defensive spells up.

Harry almost held his breath when he saw one of them was Remus Lupin, yelling 'traitor!' at the top of his lungs. Harry's heart broke when he realized his wig had fallen off, revealing his scar.

They were quickly being overwhelmed by a barrage of spells, that is, until a spell came out of nowhere and submerged that part of the alley in smoke.

Virgil took this opportunity to grab both Draco and Harry and sink into the shadows.

They reappeared in one nook along Knockturn Alley, and doubled back, putting strong Dissillusionment charms on themselves until they got back to the Leaky Cauldron.

HP

Later, as Draco and Hermione argued about the debacle down at Diagon Alley, Virgil had cornered Harry in his rooms while Lorcan told him to take a break from lessons (and Lorcan tried to look for more dragon blood).

"Harry, can I talk to you?" Virgil tentatively asked. Harry was curled up on the bed, surrounded by a lot of Hermione's books.

Harry glanced at him briefly, before settling his gaze back to one of the texts. "What is it, Virgil?"

Virgil sat down at the edge of the bed and looked at him anxiously. "Harry, you left yesterday when Draco pointed out something. And a while ago, you ..."

Virgil saw the raven-haired boy tense, and then forcibly relax under his gaze.

"Harry ..."

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said curtly, shifting away from Virgil and burying his head in the book.

"Harry, please. I know something's been bothering you," Virgil muttered, shifting relentlessly close.

It didn't take long for Virgil to realize the quiet, gasping sobs Harry was making. At once he was around Harry, embracing him as Harry silently broke down. He fell into Virgil, who was uttering comforting words in Harry's ear as he buried his face between Virgil's neck and shoulder.

...

**Review or Harry will continue crying. :P**


	3. The Nightmares and The Ambush

**Notes-uh: Hi loves! Here's another installment. yay, something happens! Thanks for the reviews, aliengirlguy, afallenheart, Sabaku no Sable, Valconwing, and twilightserius.**

**aliengirlguy - We'll see. :**

**afallenheart - LOL sorry I just posted this. Don't you dare yell at me for seeing a misspelled word or wrong sentence fragment XD**

**Sabaku no Sable - You kinky bastard. I'll make sure you get what you deserve ;P**

**Valconwing - My updates range from two days up to two weeks. It depends on my free time. :)**

**twilightserius - Ahihi. Yes, vampire orgasms are highly coveted, I hear.**

**...**

It was the second time around that Harry opened his eyes and he was on the bed—_their _bed, and Virgil's arm was lazily swung over him. The vampire was sleeping soundly, his nose buried in Harry's full head of raven hair, and Harry found the warmth very soothing.

He shifted off the bed, gently laying Virgil's arm on the soft blankets. The blonde made a grunting noise and Harry smiled fondly.

He was then reminded yesterday, when they clearly found out what the Wizarding World thought of them. Harry felt like vomiting. He saw Remus in the crowd, with his eyes alight with fury and his nostrils flaring, shooting jinxes towards their direction.

He shook his head frantically, blinking the tears away. They were truly alone in this now. _He _was truly alone—lonely in the unwanted duty thrust into his responsibility, the frightening thought of facing the dark without anyone else, and confronting, hopefully besting the Dark Lord.

HP

It was a very subdued morning. Lorcan wasn't around for any lessons, so Draco confined himself to self-study, silently guilty about the mess he created the day before. Hermione was still furious, especially when the Daily Prophet splashed their names in the headlines, with every vehement and mudslinging intent.

Harry was like a zombie, moving from room to room with no specific task to focus on. Virgil was torn between crossing the boundaries of their newly acquired friendship and running to Harry and scooping him up in his arms. Sometimes, Harry would glance at his direction with an almost-pleading look, but then look away, and Virgil would almost make a move, then stop himself. It was this exchange of reluctance that was tearing both of them to shreds.

That night over dinner, Hermione deigned to pierce through the thick silence.

"We're going to need to move to a safer place," she said.

Virgil nodded. "There are a bunch of Auror patrols screening Diagon Alley. It wouldn't take long before they search this place."

"But where would we go?" Draco asked. "And what about the potions? It wasn't only Polyjuice we were brewing."

"I don't know how we'd transport any of those, either," Hermione said hopelessly.

Harry coughed. They all turned towards him.

"Lord Lorcan gave me this book. It's about glyphs—runic inscriptions. I remember reading about one which transports items from one place to another. It's a very interesting book."

It was the longest string of words Harry had said that day, and Harry had said it with a tone of confidence.

Virgil, caught off guard by Harry's change of heart, jumped on the idea immediately. "Then—I'll look for a better hiding place, then!"

All of them turned to him in surprise. Harry's eyes were on him with worry.

"No," Harry said, glaring at the vampire.

"What do you mean, 'no'? This is our safety we're talking about!" Virgil cried.

"We won't be risking your life for ours." _I won't risk you._

"You don't have any hold on me, Harry," Virgil warned, glaring right back.

"Then go! Do what you want!" Harry cried, stomping out of the room.

Virgil, frustrated, slammed his fists down the table. The dishes clanked, and soup spilled on Draco.

"Ugh! I just bought these!" Draco yelped.

Virgil stormed out of the Leaky Cauldron, muttering curses as he did.

HP

Harry had reacted the same way Virgil did when he left. He paced from room to room, wondering loudly where Virgil ran off to. He felt wretched for screaming at the vampire. Why couldn't Virgil understand that he doesn't want the vampire leaving? Now he wasn't there, and Harry felt restless.

He resigned to poring over some books Lorcan left, leaving one of them, the one on glyphs, for Hermione. Not much information entered Harry's brain, because he was too focused on thinking about Virgil.

Harry slept alone after tediously practicing spells. He was drained, and he found himself more susceptible to his connection to Voldemort that night.

His dreams had slowly shifted from its muddled innocence, to the vivid clarity of the vision.

_He was in a room thrown in darkness, apart from a lone torch flickering to the side. He was on the floor, and beside him was a throne-like chair, elevated from the ground. Groveling in front of the throne were two figures._

_"Dolohov," said the looming figure on the throne silkily. "You utter fool."_

_"My Lord," Dolohov, his face grim as he dared look at his Lord._

_"You were unsuccessful, Dolohov. I have in my hands no ring. You say you found none in the house?"_

_"N-no, my Lord! I checked every inch and—"_

_"Crucio!"_

_Dolohov's body writhed on the stones, and he grit out muffled screams of pain. Harry found himself hissing.  
_

_"Out of my sight," the Dark Lord said, and Dolohov limped out, falling twice on his feet. Harry rose and crawled by the throne, where the Dark Lord petted him.  
_

_"And you," the Dark Lord said slowly. "Severus."_

_The hooded figure rose and tilted his head, revealing his face. He faced his Lord head on, with no trace of defiance, just acknowledgment._

_"What news have you about the Order?"  
_

_"My Lord. They are fools in their own right. Their savior is lost. They chased the boy off with their ineptitude."_

_"Very good, Severus. And the boy?"_

_"A crowd had caught sight of him in Diagon Alley. He seemed to be with Draco Malfoy, and an unknown friend."_

_"Ah, Draco," the Dark Lord's voice had gone cold at the mention of the blonde. "I shall see him killed soon. You on the other hand would keep me updated on the Order, and the boy."_

_"Yes, my Lord. I'll have him pinpointed in no time." the Dark Lord dismissed him, and he left with robes billowing behind him. Voldemort then called for Thorfinn and Walden, and they brought a few Muggles with them, bound and sobbing._

_"My dear executors, we shall relish on the rip of their flesh and the music of their howls."_

_Harry was then forced to watch the Muggles being skinned slowly, their guts falling messily to the floor as their stomachs were sliced open, their screams echoing in Harry's ears._

_:I shall have my immortality secure soon, Nagini,: he hissed to Harry.  
_

Harry woke up in the middle of the night, screaming. No one held him then, as he cried himself to exhaustion.

HP

The next day Lorcan returned, by Virgil didn't. Harry was tired of worrying for the vampire, but it was still there. He had gotten so used to the vampire's presence that week that it was actually painful for him. Hermione and Draco visibly saw the change in Harry, and was not inclined to incite Harry's anger by asking.

He felt his skin crawl with the severed skins of the Muggles from last night, with the blood and fluids that streamed to the floor. He couldn't bring himself to yawn because opening his mouth reminded him of the screams. Instead he drifted in and out of conversation as Lorcan delivered them some news.

"The Dark Lord's growing restless. Two towns in the mainland had been totally burned down. One more in Ireland."

Hermione and Draco were distraught. Harry didn't know what to do.

"We need allies. As of now my coven is widely scattered across Europe. I ordered them to do so so that the Dark Lord could not use them." Lorcan gaze settled on them with a silent plead for help. He was suffering himself, because his coven had been in rifts ever since his joining Voldemort's side.

"Allies? You mean other wizards, then?" Hermione asked.

"As much as possible, yes. I doubt Harry here would want any other creature to get involved."

Harry silently nodded to him. Harry did not want any more bloodshed from other innocent creatures.

"I'll start contacting people immediately," Hermione said, already crossing the hall to her room.

"I'm going to do the same. There were others like me who refused the Dark Mark and are on the run," Draco rose from the bed they were sitting on and went to his own room to write and Floo.

"Do you—" Harry stopped, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Do you know where Virgil went?"

Lorcan eyed Harry with affection. He had grown to like the wizard over the past few days, and now sympathized with Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry. He doesn't tell me where he goes when he storms out. It happened with me often, when he got angry with me, but he always returned. Give him time to think."

Lorcan's heart was wrenched when Harry gave a long suffering sigh. Harry nodded and grabbed two more books, and went to a corner to read alone.

HP

The day after that, Hermione had told them that she had started corresponding with some of the DA members, screening them for their allegiance. Only a few of them had replied, threatened by the tide the war was going through.

More people were going through Diagon Alley, shopping early for the start of classes in Hogwarts. The three were not looking forward to not spending the year in the school, where each of them found some semblance of comfort. For Hermione, it's the books and solace, for Draco the safety, and Harry the escape and comfort of friends.

Draco was completely immersed in study and his potions, leaving Harry with nothing to do. Seeking to divert Harry's attention from a certain missing vampire, Lorcan taught Harry lessons regarding complicated spellwork.

They started increasing Harry's ease in conjuration. Lorcan asked him what one effective way was to counter a curse or jinx, and Harry's instinctive answer was to duck or hide behind an obstacle. Lorcan commended him for his answer, and gave him a scenario where there were no obstacles to hide from.

When Harry had answered nothing, Lorcan smiled at him and told him that making an obstacle is just as good. Conjuring something in front of you effectively blocked the spell's path, and even something as strong as an Unforgivable could be shrugged off.

Harry was alight with ideas when Lorcan had presented them. He started honing his conjuring skills, making different objects appear out of nothing.

It left him exhausted, but it left him satisfied, and confident in his skills. Transfigurations _was _magic to be reckoned with, as Professor McGonagall had said.

HP

Still in the darkness of the night, Harry was awoken, not by the nightmares, but by Draco.

"Harry!" he whispered frantically, "the Aurors are downstairs! Get up!"

Harry was jostled off the bed, and adrenaline forced him awake. He fished his wand out from the pocket of his sleeping garments and immediately started packing.

"Hermione's inscribing the glyphs, but she has no idea where to take the cauldrons to!" Draco cried.

Harry was thinking quickly; this was such an inopportune time for the Aurors to come. He shrunk his belongings and stuffed it in his garments, but the door was suddenly blasted open and a spell made its way into the room. The room was instantly plunged in smoke, which choked both Harry and Draco.

Harry barely had the air in his lungs to utter a blasting curse at the window. He cast a gust spell that siphoned the smoke out, but Aurors were already pouring into the room. He _Ennervated _Draco, who coughed loudly and got the Aurors' attention.

_Shit, _he thought, and dragged Draco behind the bed. Draco was alert in an instant, and had thrown a potion vial towards the floor the Aurors were standing on. It erupted in flames, and the Aurors cried in pain. Harry _Reductoed _the wall in front of them and jumped to the next room, their wands ready.

"What the hell was that?" Harry asked, breathless.

"Ethanol," Draco coughed. "I shrunk the liquid and stored it in large quantities in the vial, and I spelled the vial to emit sparks and _Engorgio _the ethanol when it broke."

He could hear sounds coming from the other side of the hall, signifying that Aurors must have found Hermione.

"We have to get to her!" Draco cried, and Harry nodded, heading for the door. They jumped out of the hall, and Harry Conjured a huge concrete wall, blocking the spells coming their way.

They entered Draco's room where the potions were, and found Aurors overpowering Hermione.

Or rather, with another quick inspection, Hermione conjuring casts on the Aurors, impeding their wand hands. Hermione had then blasted the floor open, leaving the Aurors to fall.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, and pointed towards the cauldrons, alight with the glyphs they were on. "I don't know where to get them to!"

An Auror had managed to crawl up from the floor and catch Hermione's legs with a Leg Locking Jynx. Draco was on him in an instant, conjuring an iron ball. It connected so swiftly with the Auror's head that he lost consciousness immediately, and fell to the floor again.

But the wall behind Hermione had blasted open, and Hermione was thrown across the room. Harry had barely caught her with a _Wingardium Leviosa _before spells were on them once again. Draco had managed to Stun two, while catching a nasty slicing curse with his arm. He gasped in pain but kept a steady barrage of spells going.

Harry was using _Expelliarmus _over and over, some connecting with the wizards' wands while some knocked them completely off their feet.

"Stop playing it safe, Harry!" Draco yelled, throwing a bubbling dark curse towards an Auror. Harry's leg connected with a exploding curse, splitting it open.

"_Everte Statum!" _Harry cast while in agony, and the Aurors fell back through the hole they created. He then Conjured a thick steel slab to block the whole section of wall.

"Draco! Are you all right?" Harry had yelled, but Draco was on Hermione's motionless form instantly, fishing potions out from his sleeping robe. There were a few Harry didn't recognize, and Draco had administered them through magic, using some sort of injecting-syringe spell.

Harry heard blasting spells bombarding the steel slab, and was running out of ideas to keep them on.

_"Protego Maxima!_" he yelled, and a shimmering blue barrier was erected before them. Harry was starting to lose hope as he cast spell after spell of protection to encase them in, his leg drawing blood and throbbing painfully.

The blast that exploded was so great the steel was hot white, the burst-through shreds looking like flower petals. The Aurors poured in and start casting _Reducto _at the shields, and Draco started shaking Hermione awake.

Harry was crying angrily as his shields were slowly shattered and pulverized, but then it stopped, and the Aurors focused on someone behind them.

Harry was slowly losing consciousness when he saw a figure emerge from behind them, shooting multicolored spells and curses their way. He saw Aurors' body parts changing into bird wings or other such creature parts, saw Aurors restrained with different charms, some viscous, some chains and ropes, and watched as elements were thrown at them, liquid metal and fire, icicles and lightning.

When the turmoil receded, Virgil ran through the steel hole, spelling away the rest of the shields and falling to Harry's side immediately.

Virgil started fussing very worriedly. "Harry! Are you all right? Oh Merlin, please stay awake—I'm really sorry I left—I was looking for some place to move to—shit, Harry, they got you good—it's my fault. If only I was here, I could have gotten you out immediately and you won't have this fucking gash on your leg and—"

"'Salright, you prat," Harry said weakly, before losing consciousness. Virgil frantically searched for a pulse, felt one, and then breathed an immense sigh of relief. He then completely bandaged Harry's leg and lifted him up, cradling him with care.

Hermione had woken up from Draco's constant _Ennervating _and blinked. "What happened?"

Draco threw himself around the witch and hugged her. "You're alive!"

Hermione stood shakily, with Draco guiding her towards the cauldrons.

"Hermione, complete the Runes. I've found us a place to stay," Virgil said urgently. "The chaos would surely alert the rest of the Aurors."

**Review or nothing will happen between Virgil and Harry :O:O**


	4. Severus Snape and Spinner's End

**Notes: This was quite a short chapter. But anyway, I have news! I recently joined this RPG forum on Harry Potter (hogwartsfc dot forumotion dot com) and it's a fairly new site, but it has a helluva lot of potential! I'm not saying you join, or anything, it's not an advertisement, just telling you about my week and such, but yeah, it's loads of fun. Hehe. Thanks for the reviews xoxo.**

Three figures, with the tallest one carrying one more, Apparated to a lonely alley in Spinner's End. They walked with a quick pace, weaving through the web-like streets, until they reached a lone brick house beside a hill.

Virgil, barely tired with Harry's weight, gestured for Draco to knock.

A few seconds later, the door opened, and Severus Snape was revealed.

"Uncle Sev!" Draco cried in surprise. He grinned, and shared a handshake with his godfather.

"Everyone, quickly, before people see," Snape said urgently. Hermione threw him a scathing glare, and Virgil a disbelieving one, before bustling into the salon.

The monotony of the color of the books in the shelves and the barely-personals blended together, that the room gave an impression of a dark, padded cell. Despite that Draco looked the most gleeful he did that day, or after midnight, sitting in his godfather's house for the first time.

"Take him upstairs. I have some potions ready," he said to Virgil.

"And you, Miss Granger," he gave the defiant looking witch a disdainful glance. "Draco, if you would please cater to her. I have more ... pleasing matters to attend to." He turned away from them and headed upstairs behind Virgil.

"You have got to be kidding me. Snape's house! We might as well be handing Harry to the Dark Lord on a plate with carrots, peas and dressing on the side." Hermione huffed her displeasure at having to sit at her worst professor's sitting room.

"It's not that bad, Hermione. Uncle Sev's on our side. He's actually one of the correspondents I was contacting. Although, I'm surprised he and Virgil had been acquainted."

"Well ... fine. I trust your judgment, Draco." Somehow Draco's chest swelled at that statement. "I don't think I'll be able to trust him, however. But don't say I didn't warn you or anyone when something awful comes up involving him."

Draco nodded, and then bustled into what he guessed was a Potions laboratory. He saw their brewing cauldrons from the Leaky Cauldron inside it. Before long, he had a calming draught and some healing poultice for Hermione's legs and arms.

Draco came back and took unusual care in spreading the salve on Hermione's skin, and Hermione blushed slightly at the gentle contact.

HP

Morning found four people in Severus' sitting room, Severus among them. The two had just come down from fixing Harry's bad leg, and Virgil's face seemed to be permanently etched in worry. Severus had no doubt Virgil was deeply attached to the stupid boy, and found himself reminiscing whether the higher ups were stupid after all, for making such a thing as love.

"So when would he be ok?" Virgil asked Severus again as they sat with Hermione and Draco.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "For the fifth and final time, Virgil, soon. As soon as this afternoon."

They all sat in silence, lost in thought, when Draco piped up.

"So how did you and Uncle Severus know each other?" Draco asked Virgil.

"It was ... a misunderstanding," he stopped and looked at Severus, silently asking for permission. The man nodded.

"You see, Master Lorcan is a music artist. He used to do private shows for The Potioneers' Guild a few years back. Severus was an esteemed member, and Master was ... interested in Severus." At the implicating tone he was saying it Draco and Hermione blushed, Draco more scarlet than Hermione's.

"But I had no interest whatsoever in being 'swept off my feet', if that was how it normally happened. Sad to say I have no taste for such trivial nonsense," Severus said. Virgil grinned wickedly, however.

"So I asked Virgil kindly, if he would assist me in fending off the vampire."

"He demanded that I keep my Master in check, or he would have both our bits incinerated," Virgil said, grinning wickedly.

"Master Lorcan would have his day, Severus," Virgil said cheekily.

"That would hopefully be when I'm dead, and he's defiling all moral code by debauching my corpse."

Draco laughed, and Hermione blanched.

"So, um. Professor Snape? I don't exactly know how _safe _we are in your home ..." she trailed off.

"Well, there's only one way to find out, is there? Contact the Aurors and have them raid this place," he said challengingly. Hermione shut up then, but Draco was not amused with his godfather's tone.

"My master would unfortunately be intruding at lunch later. Sorry Severus," Virgil said apologetically.

"It cannot be helped. A long verbal spar is long overdue. My wand arm does need stretching, too." Virgil laughed at this, but it was a cut off, restrained laugh, held back by Harry's present condition.

HP

Harry was once again safe. His leg throbbed all levels of hell, and he wasn't too keen on moving that part of his anatomy an inch. He was dreadfully hard, however, and he soon found out why.

Virgil was sleeping, his hard body almost draped on top of him. Harry followed Virgil's broad shoulder and saw it descending to the excited part of his anatomy. He blushed heavily, opting to get rid of the arm, and rush to the bathroom to wank his penis off, but to no avail. He couldn't shift without his leg protesting, and he couldn't get Virgil's arm off of his waist anyway.

_Fuck._

He decided to wait. And what a torture that was. Virgil muttered Harry's name in his sleep, and Harry smiled at Virgil's angelic face. His lips were slightly open, pouted and full. His breaths came in puffs, the steady rise and fall of Virgil's chest a warm comfort against Harry's back.

_Fuck this ..._

Harry blushed again when Virgil shifted closer and buried his head between Harry's neck and shoulder, his lips touching the exposed part of skin, causing Harry's cock to twitch traitorously. Harry forcefully closed his eyes to wait, fighting the urge to look back and capture Virgil's lips in a kiss.

_Fuuuuuck ..._

It took all of Harry's control not to touch himself when he felt a familiar hardness pressing onto his ass. He could fend of a thousand Imperiuses, and suffer magical exhaustion one hundred times over, but he couldn't help snaking his arm down to the garter of his pajamas and fucking his fisted hand.

It was incredibly arousing, jacking off while Virgil was sleeping behind him. He imagined all kinds of images, particularly that hard thing pressing against his bottom, _actually entering_ his bottom, repeatedly.

Twenty minutes and Virgil was dead asleep still, and Harry came in his pajamas with a silent cry of ecstasy.

_Holy crap. Merlin, that felt good._

He was trying very hard not to pant, instead trying to wandlessly spell away the mess. He was eternally grateful it worked, and his cock's hardness began to recede.

And just in time, too. Virgil had stirred awake, smiling as he inhaled Harry's intoxicating scent. "Harry. You're awake."

"I'm ... awake," Harry said, basking on what was left of the afterglow of his orgasm, and Virgil's immensely comforting smile.

"I'm sorry, Harry. It was all my fault," Virgil muttered, hugging Harry close to him.

"It wasn't. And I told you. It's nothing. Just ..." Harry flushed, "don't leave, again. I don't ever want you to leave." His eyelashes dropped and he avoided Virgil's eyes.

"I won't."

HP

Harry was flabbergasted when he found out he was in Snape's house, even more so when he only found out by running into his Potions professor in the kitchen, wearing an apron.

"Ah, I see our noble hero is finally awake," Snape said snidely. He threw a casual glare at Harry before returning to cooking.

"You! I—Virgil didn't—"

"Eloquent, as usual, Potter," Snape remarked, throwing some vegetables into a wok.

"This is your house, then?" Harry asked in surprise. "I knew you had some hand in this, what with all the pictures and potions ..."

"_Very _astute, mister Potter. Of course, who would see every photo with me in it and make the conclusion that I currently reside in this house, but you? You deserve much more praise than they're already giving you credit for." Severus internally flinched at sounding so desperately ravenous for the chance to insult the Golden Boy.

"Sh-shut up!" Harry retorted without much thought.

Snape thrust a bowl of something positively vomit-inducing in front of Harry, and laid a spoon next to it.

"Eat or you'll die, and cause even more trouble than your being alive."

"Eat _this? _It looks really shitty," Harry said, grimacing at the way the concoction sizzled.

"Death it is, then," Severus said coolly, before going to the next room. Harry then had a staring contest with the bowl of shit, as he dubbed it. Feeling immensely daring for even thinking about eating it, he dipped the spoon into the bowl, scooped out a thick, syrupy spoonful, and closed his mouth around it.

For one heart-racing moment he thought Snape had poisoned him, or worse, put something in him that would make him look absolutely shameful in public, but then his tongue made contact with the syrup.

And it tasted _good. _It was obviously a broth-y kind of soup, and aside from the consistency it had of raw eggs, it was actually quite delicious. And filling. Harry found himself finishing every last spoonful, even sneaking a few licks or two at the bowl when he was sure Severus wasn't looking.

Severus returned, with Draco in tow, and a bunch of vials floating in the air. Before he knew it some of them were emptied into his mouth by force—Severus was surprisingly quick and strong—and Harry only had time to protest after all the disgusting gunk slid down his throat.

"Yuck! That tasted awful," Harry commented, twisting his face once again.

"You woke up earlier than expected," Draco said, washing some of the vials. "Lord Lorcan's in the sitting room, and he's got news. You best head there now. Hermione's waiting for you."

"And I would stay here, and continue to cook dinner," Severus added casually. He was obviously not too keen on having a very sexually active vampire throwing lustful glances his direction, in his own house.

"No, you won't Uncle Sev! That only needs to fry a bit, and it's good as cooked. Besides, you're needed in that meeting as much as all of us," Draco said firmly. Snape tried to glare at his prodigious godson condescendingly, but Draco would have none of it and pouted back.

Severus sighed, and gave in. "You ridiculous boy, you," he said, rubbing Draco's flawless head of hair fondly.

"Not the hair, Uncle Sev!"

Harry followed them to the salon, where Hermione, Virgil and Lorcan were waiting. Hermione was on Harry at once, hugging him and fussing over him, asking is he's all right and if he's hurt anywhere. This caused something instinctive to pull form Virgil's insides, but he contained it and smiled at Harry, who gave a shy smile back. Lorcan was staring at Severus wantonly, and Severus was doing everything in his power to assume that there were only teenagers in _his _salon, nobody else.

Lorcan sighed, and held off his advances. "The tussle down at the Leaky Cauldron was heavily publicized. Everyone, even the Dark Lord, knows of your escape."

"Let me guess. Every detail points to us being the bad guys," Hermione said, looking indignant.

"You were right with that guess," Lorcan said. "And The Dark Lord has been exposed to a particularly dangerous piece of information."

"Dangerous? What would that be?" Draco asked.

"Eyewitness accounts from Aurors all point to a certain blonde vagabond, who saved Harry and his crew from arrest." He looked at his protege and smiled grimly.

"The Dark Lord, as you may all well know, has eyes in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and has identified the blonde in the memories I have provided."

"So ... he knows Virgil's part of your coven?" Hermione pieced, her expression turning grave.

"What? What does that mean?" Harry asked with increasing agitation and confusion.

"It means that he will use my contract with him to get you, Harry," Lorcan finished, followed by dead silence.

"No! Of course you won't let him! I won't let _you_!" Virgil yelled firmly, standing up and glaring mutinously at his master. They all leaned away from the formidable stance Virgil was taking.

Lorcan held his hands up. "No, no. Of course we won't. Your anger is misplaced, Virgil. I assure you, I won't let him get his hands on Harry."

Virgil's shoulders relaxed, and he breathed a steadying sigh. Harry looked up at him, transfixed.

"What we need to do is issue a crippling attack on his—or shall I say, _our _ranks," Severus said analytically.

"How—How would we do that?" Harry muttered, still staring at Virgil, who had sat down and locked hands with his.

"How else but by subtle manipulation, careful thinking and precise planning?" Severus said with as much of a flourish the Potions professor could achieve without sounding remotely enthused.

"That would take some time," Virgil said seriously.

"Time that we don't have—not unless we create some," Lorcan finally said.

"Well, I think I know how to do that," Harry said, his face taking a plotting twist.

"I fail to think of anything concretely suggesting Gryffindors being rational and devious," Severus commented snidely.

"Oh, you have no idea what Harry could do, _professor,_" Hermione said in a fake, syrupy tone.

HP


	5. Letters and Leaving

**Notes: *IMPORTANT* I just wanted to tell you guys my definition of a vampire.**

**Vampire: A human-like creature that uses blood as sustenance. To adapt to its change in diet, a vampire's bodily functions are augmented, meaning, heightened strength, keener senses, coordination and higher brain function, and also a more alluring appearance. However, a wizard turned vampire would have less augmentation in these aspects. To make up for that, its magical power significantly increases instead. **

**So yeah, Virgil's senses are slightly keener than the usual, but not enough that he would wake up to Harry's muffled grunts and heady smell of sex when he was pleasuring himself.**

**WARNING: Masturbation scene. A paragraph of inhuman torture.  
**

**HP  
**

Harry was given a dingy guest room, fit for rats and storage boxes. He didn't mind however—for he had been living in a smaller version of one most of his life. He quite liked it, actually. It was empty, the ceiling was at a slant, and almost all of one wall was paned with a large mirror, making the room look larger than it is. It just needed a little airing out, and a _Scourgify_ here and there.

The only thing he didn't like about it was that it wasn't Virgil's room. It happened to be that he was confined in the vampire's assigned quarters when he was recovering from his bad leg, and when he had, Snape had inelegantly escorted him into this one. It seemed that the dour professor had thought the ruddiness of the place would dampen Harry's spirits, but it didn't.

A week had passed since the attack at the Leaky Cauldron. During that time Harry, Hermione and Draco had focused on thinking about a sound and effective plan of attack. Lord Lorcan had occasionally stopped by to drop by books he thought would be useful to the teens, which they had dived into enthusiastically. He'd also trained them from time to time on some of the more complicated sides of magic.

Draco had taken to joining his godfather in the laboratory, making potions and being taught private lessons. He seemed immensely happy and excited about them, and Harry could sometimes feel a sense of envy coming from Hermione, directed at Draco for being taught by a Potions Master recognized by the most elite of Potioneers' Guilds.

Hermione instead had focused on diving into the books with great concentration, and Harry sometimes heard her down by the cellar practicing spells. At one point he had decided to watch her, and was very much astounded at how fast, skillful, and inventive the witch was getting with her combat magic.

Virgil was out of Snape's house more often than he was inside it, and that was what kept Harry sulking most of the days. He didn't know what the vampire was up to, and he wanted to find out that night, when he returned.

During the afternoon, Hermione had called both of them into her quarters, which had an unusual amount of shelves filled with books—unusual, because Harry thought Snape would have had Hermione sleep in the stuffy room next to the laboratory, where books and writing surfaces weren't present and noises and fumes made it impossible to study.

"I got letters back from the D.A. And I'm glad to say it's looking good," she said, sounding serious.

"What do we have, then?" Harry asked.

"Well, the good news is that Neville's still on board, although he won't be anywhere but inside Hogwarts. His grandmother wouldn't want him pulled out, despite you being the reason. His grandmother still sides with you, Harry. Neville told us she said she gives you the same trust she gave your parents," she said. She took out the letters, and picked out another one, colored pink and lavender, and marked with floral patterns.

"Luna's in the same situation. She's willing to help anyway she can, like Neville, but she'll be confined in Hogwarts. His father's been writing all sorts of ridiculous things about your supposed heroics in Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron," she said sourly, as if her declaring she had read the Quibbler was an atrocity.

"Well, that's good, isn't it Harry?" Draco piped up, "An old hag and a lunatic publisher are still on your side!"

Harry promptly smacked Draco for that comment.

"Ginny's not going to be with us, I'm afraid. She sent curses along with her letter, magical and verbal ones. It was a good thing I check for spells. The Twins can't make a solid declaration of side, because of their parents, but they do still believe you're good. Ron's—" she stopped, stumbling over the name as her breath hitched. Draco noticed this, and knitted his eyebrows in silent fury.

"Ron responded with a plethora of insults. That's the last we're hearing from him," she said finally.

Harry was angry as well. He was supposed to be his best friend. What did he do to deserve that from Ron? What did _Hermione _do to deserve it?

"We did get other responses," she said a little too cheerfully. "Ernie McMillian replied with enthusiasm—there's also Hannah Abbott with him, and of course Susan Bones—you know her aunt had been murdered by Death Eaters recently, Amelia Bones of the Magical Law Enforcement Department ..."

Harry remembered her vaguely—that aging, kind woman who was laser precise and unflinchingly fair with his prosecution before Fifth Year.

"Oh and Zacharias Smith seemed oddly interested," her tone was slightly cold for the boy in question, "and then there's Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw. Oh and Marietta, and well, Harry—" she looked at him guiltily," Cho replied, and she was willing to help with anything."

Harry blushed, quickly looking away from Draco's cheeky grin and Hermione's knowing gaze. Last he heard she wanted nothing to do with him, and that relationship between them, or lack thereof, suited him perfectly ...

Of course he had something—or someone—else to think about now.

"How did you manage to make all of those letters untraceable?" Harry asked curiously.

"It was a spell in one of Lord Lorcan's books," was all Hermione replied.

"Well, that's great," Harry said, faking exuberance, "we have some allies ..." but Hermione had sensed the reluctance in his voice.

"But ... ?" she asked, sensing something behind Harry's facade.

"But all of them are in Hogwarts. How are we going to utilize them out here?" Harry asked Hermione slowly, without making her sound stupid for asking the other D.A. members for help.

"Well ... you _are_ right, and I didn't think that one through ..." Hermione admitted.

"But look, see!" Draco yelped, jumping to Hermione's defense. "She has other contacts, too! The other ones, well, who aren't in Hogwarts," Draco cut himself off, flushing as Hermione looked at him inquiringly.

"Yes," Hermione said, looking from the embarrassed blonde to the confused black haired teen. "I do. You still remember Viktor, right? We're still talking, you know. I've gotten more flexible with my owls now that, well, now that Ron's out of the way," she said, skipping to another topic almost immediately.

"And Fleur Delacour had been glad to hear from us. She's still grateful you saved her sister Victoire in the Triwizard Tournament, Harry. And here's a surprise—Bill's with her, and their apparently together," Hermione said, in an excited, girlish tone. Harry didn't expect it—after all she had no inhibitions hiding her distaste for the French girl.

"What does he think?" Harry asked reluctantly.

"Well," Hermione picked up a letter, "it reads, 'My parents couldn't get their heads further up their arses for doing you guys any harm.' So I guess he still likes you, Harry," she said, smiling. Harry and Draco laughed.

"Anyone else?" Harry asked.

"Well, I still have Rita Skeeter under blackmail—"

"How on earth did you do that?" Draco asked, bewildered.

Hermione, stunned, answered. "I found out how she was coming up with her latest scoops. She was an unregistered Animagus, posing as a beetle as she sleuth-ed for her target stories. I threatened to turn her in if she didn't stop reporting about all those nasty things in Fourth Year."

Hermione seemed oblivious to it as she tried to search the pile of letters, but Harry noticed how Draco looked at her differently these days.

"I managed to wheedle out of her something to blackmail her even more. She's been tussling in bed with the Prophet's Editor-In-Chief, Barnabas Cuffe."

Both the boys' eyebrows rose in surprise. "Wow, that's really something to hold over her," Draco said admiringly.

"And I have a few Ministry connections of my own. I actually contacted Cormac—"

"MacLaggen? That self-absorbed jock?" Harry said, surprised. Although, he did quite like seeing the lad in those Quidditch robes ...

"Yes, that self-absorbed jock," Hermione said, sighing. "And would you boys stop interrupting, please—I managed to, err, manipulate him into thinking I'm interested."

"You _what!" _Harry and Draco said together. They then looked at each other, Draco in utter surprise and Harry in confusion.

"I'm not really! It's just, I really admire his uncle Tiberius MacLaggen—he's head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures' Beast Division, and he's really a revolutionary creature rights activist. I actually got information about him through—would you believe it—Cedric's father, Amos Diggory."

"So this Tiberius is your connection?" Draco said slowly.

"Yes. And he positively admires the suggestions I give him," she said, beaming with pride.

She handed Harry and Draco a letter, which read, 'I am very glad to hear from you, Miss Granger. That bill you suggested was perfect for the current department divisions. If there is anything I could help you and Harry Potter with, I'll be glad to oblige. I might say I'm very good at keeping things discrete, having underground connections of my own as a proud activist. I thank you, and hope to hear from you soon.'

"How could he help us, exactly?" Harry asked, giving the letter back to her.

"Well, the new Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, as the Prophet says, 'is a hardened veteran'. That would make me assume that he doesn't put his trust on anyone lightly. It just so happens that he trusts Mr MacLaggen a certain amount, and is often seen with him as a hunting companion."

"But I thought he was a creature rights activist? Why would he be caught hunting with the Minister?" Harry reasoned.

"He's a _magical _creature rights activist. They're actually hunting down Muggle game," she replied, tucking the rest of the letters away. "He's pretty much as 'inside' as we could get in the Ministry."

Draco carefully thought of all of the people Hermione mentioned. "So now ... we have correspondents in Hogwarts, wizards from other countries in case we need them, a Ministry insider, and two news prints?"

"Well, yes," Hermione said, grinning.

"Hermione, have I told you before how undoubtedly awesome you are?" was all Draco said. Hermione blushed, and brushed the compliment off. All of them knew that before, Draco was an utter prick to both of them.

"It was partly Harry's fault, too, you know. People still generally see him as the one who will end this war," she said, looking at Harry with complete confidence and trust. Harry beamed at her, but then she quickly turned serious.

"We don't have any links to the two most important sides of this war, though," Hermione said.

"And what would those be?" Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"The Order of the Phoenix, of course," Hermione said, as if it was the most obvious thing.

"And the Death Eaters' Circle," Draco answered, too, looking completely somber.

For a second they saw Harry thinking hard, but then he blinked, and his mouth split into a wide grin.

"You're forgetting one thing, Hermione, Draco," Harry said.

"... What is it?" Both of them asked.

"Even though Snape is a _Death Eater, _Dumbledore still trusts him to be part of the _Order, _as their spy to Voldemort himself. He's practically a huge link between the two," he grinned again.

"Of course!" Hermione and Draco said together, and both of them blushed as they realized what they did.

HP

Harry lay in his bed that night, restless as he thought of what to do. Although plans were slowly drifting in and out of his mind, his ears were on the halls, listening for any signs of a certain handsome vampire.

He heard a sound coming from the halls, quick-paced footsteps, and thought to investigate. He was right for staying up; he saw Virgil silently creeping from his own room towards the staircase. When he had gone, Harry slipped out of his room and followed after him.

Down in the sitting room he saw Snape was awake, along with Virgil, who had taken a seat on one of the couches. Across the room, Lord Lorcan sat, with a woman sitting next to him. Harry thought she was very beautiful, despite signs of aging. He was crouched atop the steps, listening intently.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Professor Severus Snape," she said silkily. She threw a sticky glance at Virgil, who seemed a bit put off by the display. Harry felt a sudden urge to wring her neck. Snape said nothing, picking up a cup of tea and taking a sip. Receiving no response, the woman continued.

"Lord Lorcan has told me that my services are required," she said.

Snape nodded. "You have had contact with the Dark Lord in many occasions, I hear."

The woman nodded, crossing her legs. "Yes."

"I also have heard that you come to negotiate with him on your terms, and not his."

The woman raised an eyebrow, nodding again. "he has been hard pressed on finding a very able spell inventor."

"Of course," Snape said coolly. "Who would he turn to, but one of the finest. Miranda Goshawk."

"Indeed," Miranda said, with an air of superiority. "He's a slippery Dark Lord, Voldemort."

"But you know what we need, right?" Virgil piped, becoming impatient.

"And _you _know what _I _need," she said, looking at Virgil with shameless lust. Virgil glared at her.

"My coven is at your disposal, Miranda. Though it would be quite tragic to see your blood pooling in front of the Ministry gates if they suffer or die."

Miranda laughed. "Do not worry your little head over it, Lorcan. I only require the services of young Virgil here," she said, transferring her gaze from the lord back to the teen.

"Isn't there another alternative, Miranda?" Lorcan asked, wary of the powerful witch. "I'm sure any other vampire of my kin is more than willing."

Harry instantly disliked the woman when she threw a look at Virgil too sultry to be misinterpreted as otherwise. "I'll ask you the same question, then. Isn't there another alternative, besides me, who remains to be the only non-Death Eater to know where the Dark Lord can be found? No. I'm the only one who knows their hideout. Unless you want to ask Bellatrix Lestrange or the Dark Lord himself. You are all summoned there without knowing the location, I take it?"

Snape nodded, his expression forming icicles. "Well then, you may leave, if—"

"I'll do it," Virgil interjected, though hesitantly. "Whatever it is, I'm at your disposal, Miss Goshawk."

Harry ignited with rage, to whom it was directed he wasn't sure—it was either fury towards the bitch, indignation at Lord Lorcan or hurt anger towards Virgil.

"Very well, then. You will come with me today, and I will return you tomorrow. Then I will divulge everything I know." She smirked triumphantly, before standing up. She turned to leave, and Virgil, unable to do anything about it, stood up as well and followed suit. Before coming out the door Lorcan grabbed his arm.

"Virgil, I implore you. You do not have to do this,' he said, worried for his adopted son.

"It's ... for Harry," he said, turning to leave.

When they had gone, Harry sneaked back into his room as quickly as possible and cried. There was no doubting what Miranda had in store for Virgil.

HP

_He was coiled on the cool floor, and the room was in total darkness, save for a lone torch in the corner of the room. In the middle of the room was a Muggle eight year old, bones bent and twisted at odd angles, barely breathing and exhausted from screaming. The floor around him was red with blood, and a multitude of sharp objects jutted out of the child.  
_

_He had a strong urge to look for rats in the sewers, but decided against it when the robed figure sitting on a throne referred to him._

_:Nagini ... I am growing weak ...: the figure said in what was undoubtedly Parseltongue. :In due time I would have to reunite with one of the pieces of my soul.:_

_He hissed back his affirmation. His master was losing power quickly. Yes, he needed that part back._

_:But which one to retrieve, my snake?: the robed figure asked. :I could have Bella recover the one in her possession, but hers is the most protected. I might as well undo the spell and stab myself.:_

_He tilted his head in some form of snake nod, and hissed back._

_:One of them is destroyed. That old coot saw to that. I could no longer find it in my Father's ungodly house. As for the other, I have no doubt they are safe.:_

_He uncoiled himself and crawled towards his master. He then slithered up the throne and settled his snake head on top of his Master's._

_:Ah. The one in Hogwarts, you say?: he threw his head back and laughed a haunting, deathly laugh._

_He shot a hex at the child, and the body exploded._

Harry's screams rendered the air, and almost shook the house down. It was at three twenty four in the morning when Hermione and Draco found themselves comforting a deeply horrified Harry, and Snape forcing potions down his mouth.

HP

**Sorry for the gore! review!**


	6. Voldemort's Secrets and Longing

A week had passed. Everything everyone did reminded him of Virgil. Lorcan's vampyric tendencies, Draco's rather apparent blonde hair, Hermione's quick spellwork, Snape's sneaky, darkness-loving, bat-like traits ...

Harry had strengthened his resolve that week after, thinking that pining over someone was unbecoming of the war. He had no time to satisfy that part of his life.

But it was getting so bloody hard, that he had to work extra hours into spell practice and reading to get his mind off of things. He had somehow found a way of thinking about the handsome blonde while at the same time mastering a spell, or absorbing a particular passage into his stock knowledge.

Voldemort's soul was split. Harry didn't know such a magic existed, but he knew Voldemort wanted to reunite with one. He hypothesized that, since there was another soul piece hidden in Bellatrix Lestrange's possession, and that Dumbledore destroyed another in Voldemort's father's house, there were more of them lying around. And based on Voldemort's confidence in that protection, Harry took a gander that there was at least two more in the growing list of soul pieces.

One's with Bellatrix. Dumbledore destroyed another. And at Hogwarts ...

Harry knew Voldemort would send someone into Hogwarts. he had told Hermione and Draco about his dreams with some effort. He didn't like crying because it made him feel he was weak, and he didn't want to feel that with the enormity of his situation.

But Hermione and Draco heard him anyway, and didn't say anything as tears ran down his face, recounting the blood and gore his mind was forced to experience over the week. Instead Draco made draughts for Harry, and Harry would drink them, and Hermione read and wrote letters.

She warned Luna and Neville, not completely trusting that they would be able to do anything about it, but winging it anyway. She told them to stay alert, look for anything suspicious, and don't act out until it's absolutely necessary. She got a reply from Neville later, saying that they would do just that.

Harry had a rather awkward talk with Lorcan after a lesson. Lorcan felt affection for Harry, and it broke his heart to see the youth at such a heartbroken state. Despite that they skirted around the sensitive topic.

"Is it possible to split the soul?" Harry had asked in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer.

"... yes," was Lorcan's reply, keeping the talk casual by reading a book as they did.

"What would that help, then, if someone splits his soul?"

Lorcan read a line, marked the page with a dog ear and closed it, setting it down on the table they were occupying.

"That, is a rather intriguing question, Harry," Lorcan said. "Wizards long ago, well, they didn't know the implications of ripping the soul in two, because that's what it does—leave a rip in the entirety of the soul that cannot be reversed seamlessly."

He set the book on the table aside and placed his arms together on the table. "The tearing of a soul has many effects. Souls, when split, tear in places that divide the soul into different spectra or states of being. They separate where one personality starts and another ends. That could imply two parts of a split soul could have only one definition of the person's being in one piece, and the rest of it in another."

Harry listened intently, looking for any sign or clue as to Voldemort's true intentions.

"Wizards used it to eject from themselves unappealing traits in their personality. They would purposefully split their souls where it contained their lack of prudence, or cowardice, or a weak heart or constitution. It was an uncommon, lost practice of course, not common because it required great skill and knowledge, and lost because of its ancient roots and immoral implications."

So was that it then? Voldemort split his soul to get rid of some parts of his personality? Harry found it incredulous. There must be another reason.

"Anything more to soul splitting?" Harry asked rather abruptly, blushing at his straightforwardness. Lorcan eyed him curiously, but answered him anyway.

"Well ..." Lorcan said thoughtfully, "the spit souls cannot both remain in the same body, unless they are being rejoined. Hence, the wizards stored them in objects or outright destroyed them. Granted, the destroyed piece of soul weakened them, but in the long run the remaining soul learns to move on without its split counterpart. It was a hard task, destroying an object imbued with a soul piece, because a piece cannot be destroyed unless it is attached to an object, and destroying the object involved required irreversibly powerful, destructive magic or force."

Something clicked in Harry's mind. The soul piece could be put into an object, which may be the reason why Voldemort's pieces seem to be everywhere.

And then, something Lorcan said piqued him. "Then ... what if your soul was split, and you put a part of it in an object, and you were hit by an _Avada Kedavra_?"

Both of them knew the Killing Curse ripped the soul from the body forcefully. Harry came to the conclusion that a soulless body was a dead one, using the curse's explanation.

Lorcan's eyebrows rose a bit, and he looked rather impressed and thoughtful at the same time. "That is a rather nice question to put, isn't it?"

He drummed his fingers on the the table and gazed at Harry, thinking. The raven-haired boy squirmed slightly in his seat.

"What brought all this, young Harry?" Lorcan said, his dark eyes boring into Harry's. Harry swallowed, then gave in.

"I've uncovered something in my dreams. I—" he debated whether to tell the vampire, but decided he was too far in to back out, and that Lorcan was on his side, and had the right to know. "I have a mind connection with Voldemort, you see, and I sometimes have nightmares of what he's doing."

Lorcan had the gall to look worried, and Harry tensed. As of now Harry thought Lorcan was strictly business, and that no such affection he was feeling from Lorcan now was ever to be exchanged between them.

"You never told me this, Harry. It is very worrisome," Lorcan admitted, placing a hand on Harry's. Harry had the urge to flinch from the comforting touch, but didn't.

"It doesn't bother me, honestly," Harry said sighing at his lie. He knew his nightly howls shook the house down.

"But more importantly," he said quickly, before Lorcan could provide any input, "the night when he—" Harry swallowed, his heart clenching, "—when Virgil left, I had a dream. I don't know why but I was a snake, his pet snake to be exact, and he was speaking to me in Parseltongue."

Lorcan's eyebrows knit together, but said nothing.

"He was talking about the way he was growing weak, and that soon he'd have to reunite with a part of his soul. With what you just told me, now I know he had split his soul. And into many parts, at that, seeing as he was contemplating which one to take back."

Lorcan's eyes were disturbed of what Harry had divulged. "How uncanny ... many soul pieces ... you don't think ..."

Harry nodded, following the vampire's train of thought. "That's why I asked that question. If you died with a soul piece still intact somewhere, would you still exist in this world? Because, then, if that were the case ..."

Lorcan's eyes looked haunted at the realization Harry was pushing towards. "Then maybe if a piece of your soul existed somewhere, you can never be truly killed ...?"

Harry nodded. That would mean that, more than anything, Harry needed to find these soul pieces and destroy them. But how was he supposed to acquire a means to do that? He looked back at Lorcan's distraught expression. Harry found himself shocked at how well he was figuring things out, too dumbfounded to feel the horrific implication of their conclusion which was Voldemort's near-immortality.

"Maybe Voldemort thought to experiment with it, and it worked that way. Maybe that's why it was possible for him to come back to kill me in my first year at Hogwarts, and his resurrection at the graveyard, and in the Chamber—"

Another thought struck him at that point. The Chamber. Tom Riddle's diary. A memory. Lorcan said something about the soul splitting where identities and personalities of the person met. That diary may very well have contained a soul piece. And the last he had seen it was in Dobby's hand as he used it to free the house elf from Lucius Malfoy. the black diary, tattered and yellowing, with a gaping hole in the middle of it, created by him as he stabbed it repeatedly, with a Basilisk fang.

"A Basilisk fang ..." he thought, his mind reeling. A Basilisk fang! If the diary did indeed contain a soul piece, the Basilisk fang destroyed it, because ... because ...

"_Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its destructive and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its yellow eyes shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it._"

That passage Hermione ripped from the book, the one Harry found in his her petrified hand in the Infirmary, came back to him. The Basilisk fang, with all its baleful properties, can manage to destroy soul-imbued objects. That diary was proof enough, along with the overly simplified shit Dumbledore spewed after the altercation.

**HP**

"Where the fuck are we going to to get Basilisk fangs—oh, my apologies, Uncle Sev," Draco said quickly, after a reprimanding gaze was sent his way. Classes had finally started in the Wizarding school, yet it was the weekend, and Severus as of now had no serious load of pathetic work to fail.

"Dumbledore has no doubt sealed all existing passages into Hogwarts, so there would be no chance of you sneaking in," Hermione said to Harry, who was sitting by the fire. They were in Severus' parlor, and Harry and Lorcan had told them of what they found out. They had mixed expressions of startled dread, intrigue and understanding in their faces.

"I'm going to have to read on those," Hermione said, despairingly, to her company's surprise. "but there aren't any books that would have anything to do with Basilisks here—I'm sorry Professor—but even in Hogwarts only one book contained some information on it," she finished.

"We'll write, then," Draco said to her, "to the others. There must be someone who can give us any information or alternative."

"Lorcan," Severus said, "have you any other information regarding these objects and how to destroy them?"

Lorcan sprang to life at being addressed by Severus. "The objects have many names, but the most common was Horcrux, from the Egyptian God Horus and the Southern Cross Crux. The ancient magic involved in the soul splitting process has its roots from the ancient Egyptian priests, one of the first practitioners of magic. After the fall of the old Egyptian Kingdom and the rise of new religious beliefs, the magic was lost, only to be uncovered during the age of nautical exploration and discovery, along the same time the constellation Crux was rediscovered and utilized by astronomers."

Everyone contemplated on it, then Harry spoke. "We'll have to owl Bill as well for any information he might have found on it while curse-breaking in Egypt. As for the Basilisk ... I have no idea how to get past that."

"We know very few about irreversible magic," Severus said, in a voice that suggested fatigue. He was getting quite tired of digging himself out of the larger hole he had created for himself all those years.

"The only lead we have would be Weasley. Other than that, we should consider ourselves at a dead end."

Lorcan arranged himself in his seat and everyone turned to stare at him. "We do have another way of looking for information."

He turned to Harry and smiled slightly. "I know where a library extensive with ancient texts and grimoires could be found. I think it's time I brought all of you to Stygian's Keep."

Sorry it's so short. Review?


	7. Switzerland and The Vagabond's Return

**This fan fiction is set in an alternate universe. I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Timeline in this fanfic's pushed forward to present time.**

It was an unexpectedly long trip. For some inexplicable reason Lorcan took them through a series of checkpoints which were way off course. His only explanation was that it wasn't safe to head straight to the castle. His coven had enemies Harry couldn't even dream of fathoming, and Harry was content with that answer for now.

Harry, for his part, thought of almost nothing but horcruxes. It intrigued him, that line of magic, so much so that from time to time a thought would cross his mind of him having a split soul and lodging it into the oddest of objects: a random vessel's anchor, a statue in Hyde Park, on the Mona Lisa …

Then he thought of the process through which he was to make one, which was to commit an inconceivable act against nature. He'd feel repulsed and stop that train of thought then. But nonetheless, with his mind going back to _him,_ more unusual objects surfaced, and more hiding places. He wasn't about to think of that git now.

Hermione chose not to comment on Harry's fluctuating wave of expressions, but instead asked Lorcan and Snape incessantly, and thought of irreversible, destructive magic, and what qualified as such. There were, of course, kinds of magic which are both, but Hermione had a feeling most of it didn't come up to standard.

For example, Hermione thought of less potent poisons than that of a Basilisk. Surely Acromantula venom was deadly; it was as near irremediable as Basilisk venom, what with only Phoenix tears to detoxify the body it was destroying, but it worked in a much longer pace than the other.

An affliction hex is both of those as well, especially bio-altering ones. Hermione had been reading almost all Lorcan's tomes with a not uncommon eagerness to learn, and she had encountered a few which dealt with the science of it all.

It was fascinating how magic could affect living things in miraculously good ways and in crippling, evil ones. All in all it challenged the dregs of morality Hermione had left regarding using the spells on other wizards, especially the wizards who had no qualms blasting her to bits.

Would those, which dealt fatal effects, but at a snail's pace compared to their more potent counterparts, destroy a Horcrux too?

Draco wasn't even interested in contemplating what Hermione was thinking. He was just too transfixed with her face: how it caught the light, which colors matched its stunning pallor and the cascading locks that grew above it, how strikingly piercing those hazel eyes were as they changed course from one thought to the next…

Lorcan enjoyed watching the youth. His head, propped against a narrow windowsill, was jostled from time to time by the occasional pebble the carriage they were riding on ran over.

He felt affection for his three new protégés, for Hermione's quick wit and Draco's melodramatics, but most of all for Harry, and his, quiet, modest charms. He understood even before why Virgil had taken to the boy, but it's only taken him now to fully grasp how terribly complementing their personalities were. Lorcan sensed a sentient magic in Harry, laying dormant and waiting for a trigger. He was both apprehensive and looking forward to that day when it happens.

But, regardless, the most enjoyable thing about the trip was watching Severus. How his eyes glinted with suspicion and perturbation, and how each sly gesture or wink Lorcan gave made Severus either cringe, shiver or faintly color.

That Severus felt annoyed was a gross understatement. He must have subconsciously, fervently wished he wasn't in this exact predicament sometime before, because right now the ones controlling this sick game of life were toying with him once again, by giving the exact opposite of what he wished.

The last thing he ever thought he would be in was a carriage filled with three teenagers at their most irritating: moody, lovesick and pestering, and a centuries-old vampire with an affinity for what's in his trousers.

It has been four days since they left Spinner's End, and they were somewhere in France, a long ways from Fleur's countryside abode. Harry didn't know what exchanges took place between Lorcan and the people Lorcan met with, and how in Merlin's name they got in and out of four countries without the respective passports from the International Magical Cooperation department and the like, and Harry couldn't help suspect shadiness afoot.

But the vampire had assured them all was well and good, and that they were getting closer to their destination.

So far the British Ministry had not gotten word of their whereabouts, and the Prophet and Order members seemed to have stopped mudslinging directly their way. The people were not so feeble-minded anymore. Instead they had resorted to more covert tactics, like hinting that Potter and his friends were to blame for a recent apothecary break-in, or pinning them as the prime suspects to a post office interception and blow up.

Lorcan had also addressed Hermione and Severus with current events in Wizarding Britain that were not in the Prophet, dropping hints of Virgil's current employer Miranda Goshawk in their conversation. Harry knew he did this to assure him, but he felt no comfort in that, still.

Whether he was thinking about the boy or not, Harry had developed a rather vindictive dislike for Virgil. He thought about how arrogant the vampire was sometimes with spellwork, and how he relished his vampyric skills, how he teased Harry about his height or gangly stature and how he snuffed out whatever lame joke Harry came up with.

Harry also disliked how Virgil looked and seemed absolutely perfect compared to him, all muscle, brains and charm, while he looked like an urchin who could pass for a dyslexic, lank and almost no bulk, moody and lashing more than half the time and brooding over inconsequential things the rest.

Hermione and Draco didn't mind at all how Lorcan seemed to spend more time with Harry than with them. Hermione was getting by almost without any help anyway, and Draco was more interested in Hermione and his potions.

At nights, they would set up camp somewhere instead of staying at an establishment, for fear of being ambushed by enemies to the coven or by the authorities, or by Voldemort's underlings. Twice they've already escaped some sneak attacks in the night, thanks to Snape's safety precautions and Hermione's intuition.

A normal campfire night would include Lorcan consoling or teaching Harry, while Snape, Hermione and Draco shuffled around making dinner, reading, and doing other tasks like reinforcing camp spells or collecting firewood. They had no tent, and slept below the stars.

Every night Harry secretly cocooned his sleeping bag with a silencing charm so that he caused no further inconvenience to the others. He actually welcomed the sleepless nights that came after a vivid dream. He took full advantage of his telescopic view of Voldemort plotting, using it to make preemptive strikes.

The day after those dreams occurred he sent letters. Miles from their campsite Fred and George would receive anonymous Owls tipping the Order off to a raid, or Ministry Aurors to a Death Eater den. It was these little things that broke through the morale of the Dark Lord's growing army, and made up for Harry's sleeplessness and lack of rest.

Everyone else was worried with Harry, even Snape to a lesser extent. He was the one who had to brew the Pepper-Up Potions for the boy, with Draco filling in from time to time. Severus also thought the boy needed to learn Occlumency, to safeguard his mind from any damage the Dark Lord might inflict should he choose to do so.

Lorcan sought to do just that. Harry would often complain to him that he simply can't shut his mind off, even partially, from Voldemort's, and Lorcan would look puzzled. After a week of training Harry managed to fend off double Legilimencies from Snape and Lorcan, but couldn't stop himself from perusing the Dark Lord's thoughts when nightfall came.

Lorcan knew Harry slept better with Virgil around. Harry looked vibrant and wide awake instead of tense and snappish. Lorcan was perplexed with how Harry had the energy to last days of almost no sleep, but did not ask the raven-haired boy himself.

Harry didn't know either, and sometimes he did feel tired, and not just physically. No matter how much he tried not to dwell in it, he wanted Virgil's arms around him again, to feel the immense comfort and security that rocked him to sleep. But he was going to have to make sacrifices for this war. He'd survived years without the vampire and he could make do without him now.

They crossed the French border and reached Swiss land twelve days since they departed from Britain. Hermione had a feeling they would somehow pass through all the middle European countries before they arrived near the Baltics. It would be absurd, but the three had no choice. All they could do was keep correspondences with their allies and strengthen ties.

Draco was becoming a very skilled Potioneer by then. He was also quite inventive, incorporating whatever Muggle story Harry told him into his work. He made variations of Muggle grenades using round vials and magic triggers, and it was an unexpectedly effective way to cripple ranks should they encounter any Death Eaters. With Hermione's help (much to Draco's delight) and knowledge of biologically altering spells, they made different kinds. Non-lethal, but harmful and irritating nonetheless.

They reached the Swiss capital Bern in two days, the carriage they rode a few days before left a mile before the border. They were in a rented Muggle car, something Draco and Snape slightly detested. It aroused less suspicion and provided faster transportation.

Lorcan was driving, and Harry and Hermione felt like tourists. Bern was scenic, and a welcome change from dreary Britain. Draco didn't bat an eyelash; he'd been on vacation there multiple times before, whether to stay in the capital or visit their winter home in the Alps. He was instead morose, blankly staring outside.

Severus, of course, could tell why. His godson wouldn't ever have those visits with his family again. He had been disowned.

The two Gryffindors were oblivious to the Slytherins' lack of input to the conversation. Harry felt invigorated by new sceneries, and Hermione fed her brain with the history of the place.

"From here on out we'll be travelling along the Alps," Lorcan said to them. "We would stop at Zurich's, Vaduz', Inusbruck's and Salsburg's Wizarding communities, lying low and restocking on supplies. I have a vault in Zurich I wish to visit, and some of my Children in Salsburg."

He looked at them from the rearview mirror and grinned with his sharp canines. "I'm pretty sure they'd be excited to meet you."

The rest of them weren't too keen on that.

They slept in a two-star Muggle hotel in Bern for the night, awaking the next day to set forth for Zurich. Harry slept for an hour, before waking up from Voldemort torturing Muggle children.

Harry had learned to be detached yet hyper-aware. His current mindset about the situation was that he knew the cruelty was happening and that he was powerless to stop it, but he didn't let himself be traumatized and haunted.

He tried to convince himself that it wasn't apathy, that it wasn't that he was unfeeling for the sake of not empathizing for those unwilling sacrifices. He wanted Voldemort dead many times over, under greater punishments that he put his victims under. However, he didn't want his driving force to be hatred, but he really, purely loathed the Dark Lord each time he did those unimaginable feats of brutality.

Harry was edgier than usual on their trip to Zurich, Lorcan noticed. It was Hermione and Draco striking up the conversations, with Harry answering in terse, barely thought through responses. Snape had visited an Apothecary the night before and brewed potions depleted in their stock. He had disdainfully offered the boy a vial of fresh Pepper-Up, which Harry briefly but politely refused.

In two hours they arrive in Zurich by car. Harry had fallen asleep undisturbed, leaning against the car door, his face a picture of inner tumult. The others thought he looked simply horrible, but were glad he was sleeping dreamlessly.

"I must warn you," Lorcan said as they pulled over to park at a busy street, "Security's pretty tight entering Swiss Street. That's why we're going a little covert to enter."

Instead of going to a rather blatant building entrance which Hermione translated as the Swiss Street's whole title, they entered an establishment a block away. It looked like a Muggle café or inn, was stylishly furnished, and attractively inhabited. Harry could immediately tell the room was a mixture of Muggle and wizard.

Lorcan brought them and what little luggage they have (thanks to shrinking and spatial charms) towards a front desk, where he handed over a slip of paper, a package and a pouch. The clerk smiled a sugary sweet smile.

"Welcome!" the clerk said in broken English, after reading the note. "Your rooms would be on the second floor, numbers two-oh-eight and two-ten."

"Rooms?" Draco muttered sideways at Hermione. "I thought we were going to Swiss Street?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Maybe this is the other way around security."

Harry dragged his luggage along, disinterested in what was happening and daydreaming slightly, and they followed Lorcan to the elevator. Lorcan had a satisfied, 'My day's going my way' expression, which annoyed Severus to no end.

They arrived at a well-lit hall between the two rooms the clerk indicated. One of the rooms' doors was distinguishably pink.

"I'm sorry Hermione," Lorcan said in a delighted tone of voice, "but you're going to have to take that room alone. Just go to the bed and leave your extra things there, turn the telly on and jump in."

Hermione looked apprehensive. Harry leaned against a wall to doze as Lorcan explained.

A few minutes later and Hermione entered the room tentatively, and closed the door behind her.

"Well, we must be going as well."

Lorcan threw the blue door open, went in without a fuss and threw his things on the bed. The rest followed suit, with Draco and Snape being much more elegant in their proceedings. Harry simply left his things by a wall.

Lorcan turned the telly on, looked on with glee at Draco's childish fascination, and happily pushed an unaware Harry into the flashing box.

Harry travelled in what seemed like a Portkey tunnel. He was squeezed out like toothpaste in a tube, and unceremoniously dumped onto a crowded street lined with other televisions. Hermione appeared next to him and picked him up, smiling.

Harry thanked her while fixing his lopsided glasses, and soon Snape, Draco and Lorcan appeared from the television he'd just been spat out of. Snape and Lorcan landed on their feet, while Draco did an awkward sort of barrel roll to a stance. It made Hermione giggle, and Draco flush scarlet.

It was a lot like Diagon Alley, Swiss Street, with the prominent distinction of Muggle technology prevalent in the streets and windows. Draco wanted to explore the shops and Hermione the nearest bookstore, while Snape wanted nothing more than to be rid of the others for some time, which left Lorcan and Harry heading along the Street towards one of the many banks.

It was the largest and the most ornately decorated. Harry was impressed with how much bigger it was than Gringott's and had no doubt the place was being run by Goblins as well.

They entered the large building, into a foyer decked with lights, glass, steel and anything generally corporate. It was the first Wizarding bank Harry had seen which looked like a normal Muggle bank. Except of course, it was the only other Wizarding bank Harry had seen, and the flying papers, missives and reports, and the wizards manning the receiving desks using magic, made it particularly non-Muggle.

"Right this way, then, Harry," Lorcan said amicably, guiding them to a desk. A balding wizard who was no doubt more than thrice Harry's age entertained them.

As Lorcan spoke to the man, Harry looked around. He thought every Knut, Sickle and Galleon deposited in a bank was kept by Goblins. Apparently not. His eyes landed on a few pamphlets on the establishment. Seeking to do something, he took one, skimmed over it, and then put it down after a while.

It discussed in brusque yet great detail why Goblins weren't handling the place. Goblins are generally untrustworthy when it came to Goblin-Wizard transactions. Their answering skullduggery stemmed from their general distrust of past wizards who had aggrieved them in financial dealings, and couldn't be tolerated anymore.

The Swiss magical capital Zurich was Goblin-free in their banks. Harry found the idea anti-creature at first. In hindsight, Switzerland was a world-class banking capital, and if they thought something was wrong in the lines of finance and currency, then they were probably right.

That, coupled with the Street's reception to Muggle appliances and technology, led to Harry thinking that maybe Wizarding Britain was becoming obsolete, lodged firmly in a time when everything was purely wizard, when the streets sold old, itchy clothing, and the patrons wrote receipts with quills.

Harry looked at Lorcan, who was drawing a dagger out of a hilt strapped to his waist. His eyes widened when the vampire slit his wrist in front of everyone in the room and let a few droplets of blood fall onto a piece of paper on the desk. No one found it odd but Harry.

The old man across the desk nodded when the paper glowed. "Do you have your key?" he said in a gruff, accented voice.

Lorcan nodded, then looked at Harry and smiled. Harry hesitantly smiled back.

They were brought to a chamber off to the right of the entrance hall, towards a much small corridor where a few elevators were. Unlike the Ministry lifts, the one they entered only went up and down.

When they reached a floor Harry didn't care to know the level of, they stepped of the lift and walked a few more corridors filled with steel circular vaults. It was quite a change from the ancient rickety vault doors of Gringotts that Harry was back then surprised to see.

They reached vault one-two-four-three-five-three, and Harry knew it was Lorcan's. Its vault door had a noticeably larger radius compared to the others.

"It's big," Harry commented, looking at the vampire. Amused, Lorcan just nodded. The old man gracefully took his key and pressed it flat against a gel-like scanner. The scanner glowed green, and Harry heard heavy tumblers aligning along the sides of the circular vault door.

It opened without a creak, and the stale, stagnant air rushed out to meet the air around them. Lights from fluorescent bulbs (not gas lamps), opened, and the three of them stepped in.

"Please deposit how much you need to. We have shrinkable magic satchels at the vault door for your convenience," the old man said. He just stood there, watching Lorcan and Harry, and Harry's eyes finally wandered around the huge piles of Galleons.

Near the vault door, at the sides, were the piles, like glittering sand dunes against chrome-colored floor. Back against the room were furniture, paintings, sculptures, and other miscellaneous items like tomes, busts, vases and clothing. Everything smelled ancient yet unusually non-putrid with decay.

"It brings back memories," Lorcan said wistfully. Harry tinkered with a small, whizzing contraption, which reminded him of Dumbledore's office. He frowned.

"Is this all yours, then?" Harry said, perusing the odd things around a grandfather clock in one corner. Lorcan was filling a satchel with Galleons.

"Not all. Certainly not even half of this is mine," Lorcan said. "This is my coven's master vault, connected to other, smaller vaults in Europe. I needed to procure some items here that couldn't be obtained from those other banks."

He took one look at a box in a nightstand and smiled. "Ah. Here it is."

He took it and walked up to Harry, who cocked his head in inquiry. Upon closer inspection Harry realized it was a jewelry box.

"This belonged to my great-great-great grandmother," Lorcan said, in a tone that suggested he was looking back in time. "It was filled with priceless stones from the first jewel trades along the Silk Road."

The vampire opened it, and the little child inside Harry peeked inside. He cocked his eyebrows in awe. The jewels were deeply colored and smooth, glittering with the light, reflecting the metallic room, dancing with highly wrought, complicated gold and platinum. Harry was sure this box could feed two third-world countries with a few million pounds to spare.

"This is insane," Harry breathed out. He was transfixed with the gems, his green-emerald eyes alight, as if they wanted to pop out of their sockets and join their companions in the box.

Lorcan chuckled. "This particular one—"Lorcan said, fishing out a glimmering gold ring imbued with an unexpectedly self-effacing red ruby, "—is the one I'm interested in."

Harry stared at the ring. It was elegantly wrought, so finely detailed that the miniscule bevels and grooves almost made it look plain to a partially blind eye. The single, geometrical stone propped on its mini-pedestal was blood red.

"My coven has pledged its loyalty to you, Harry Potter. It's time we sealed that contract," Lorcan said with a good-natured expression. He closed the box; the small, glittering sparkles it emitted left Harry's face. He walked back to the nightstand to set it there, and without any staging presented the ring to Harry.

It threw Harry off when he understood what the vampire meant. "I can't accept that," he said, almost offended.

Lorcan smiled once again. "You have to, or you're basically declining our offer."

Harry, with all his charmingly diffident nature, sighed. "Do I have to?" 

Lorcan nodded kindly. "It would make this official, unlike our, err, business deal with the Dark Lord."

Harry, at last, gave up, held out his hand and bit the inside of his lip. "Give it here."

Lorcan grinned and dropped the ruby onto Harry's waiting palm. It touched his skin for only a second before floating above his palm, whirring. Wisps of light emanated from it in waves, surrounding the both of them. Then, as soon it happened, the light poofed into nothingness, and they were in the chrome room again.

"What was all that, then?" Harry said in slight alarm. He was gripping the ruby ring in between his index finger and thumb, gaping at it in intrigue.

"Think of it as a variation of an Unbreakable Vow. One of those ancient ritual contracts between wizards," Lorcan said. "If our coven does anything that would betray your trust or kill you, I personally would suffer the consequences."

Harry's eyebrows knitted. "And it doesn't go both ways?"

Lorcan laughed, and looked at Harry affectionately. "Oh, Harry. It doesn't have to. At this point I trust you, Hermione, Draco and Severus with my life. Why else am I taking you to my castle and introducing you to my coven?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "To eat us, surely. What else? Draco doesn't look too appetizing, though."

Lorcan and Harry left the vault, Lorcan still with laughter bubbling from his chest.

The next day, they had left the Inn and were off to Inusbruck on another rental car. Forty minutes into the trip and Draco would not shut up about the new mp3 player he'd bought in a shop in Swiss Street. He kept badgering Hermione about how to make it work, until she finally relented and taught him.

That was five minutes into the trip. The thirty five minutes that followed was a combination of Draco pouting nonstop at Harry's direction and grumbling at the useless mp3. He bought it with money he'd earned from selling some complicated, high-grade potions he had brewed over the course of the trip. Now, Hermione had told him the player contained no music, and those had to be bought.

Draco had no spare money left to spend for the music, which automatically downloaded itself into the player at the owner's request. The catch? The player had to recognize a magical signature, which would prompt the company's European database to redirect the purchases to a vault in Europe corresponding to the magical signature.

Now, Draco didn't dare ask Lorcan for the money, much, much less his godfather. Instead, he pleaded with Harry, who was the only other wizard in the car who had a vault to his name.

Finally, Harry sighed and took the damn mp3, set it on 'detect magical signature' and lobbed it back to a very grateful Draco. The next hour was spent thinking of songs Draco might like. Hermione threw in her share of songs, some from Alanis Morrisette's and Beatles' albums, which Draco took to heart and downloaded under Harry's account.

Harry offered some of his own favorites: Red Hot Chili Peppers, Green Day, and unexpectedly, some Kylie. Lorcan threw Nirvana and Metallica in, which Draco disliked, much to the vampire's enjoyment.

Draco settled for a curiously popular album called Sticky and Sweet, and another one called The Fame.

Severus would have slammed a palm to his face if it wasn't so unbecoming. Instead he focused all his energy and attention on a rare Potions book he had pilfered from somewhere.

That went on for a little longer. Harry had nothing to do when Draco decided to listen to music instead of talk. Hermione was sleeping; she never liked the car rides for it gave her nausea. Instead Harry looked at the mountains rolling along the car window.

It was an Audi, a small one that fit the five of them. Snape rode shotgun while Lorcan drove, and the three sat at the back, Hermione sandwiched between Draco and Harry to her left and right, respectively. Hermione alternately leaned on either of them while she slept. Most of the time when Hermione's head rested on Harry's shoulder, Draco wore a half-scowling, half-disdainful face. That same face morphed into a blissful expression when Hermione adjusted herself to the left.

Lorcan tapped his fingers against the wheel, to a tune on the radio Harry didn't understand the lyrics to. He didn't know how Snape could read in a moving vehicle without throwing projectile sick all over the dashboard. Some potion or spell perhaps. Or a high brain tolerance. Goodness knows what excess _Crucios _does to the brain.

And then several things happened at once.

A bright light cut through the air from the trees, zoomed towards the road and exploded next to the car. Next thing Harry knew, Hermione was screaming bloody murder along with Draco, who was stringing a lot of curses in one instant. Harry, despite his brain's sleep-deprived state, still managed to register Snape quickly fishing his wand out of his pocket, and Lorcan quickly diving into the backseat, all while the Audi whirled in the air and off the road.

Harry felt compressed in a snap, then landed on a patch of grass by the road. Lorcan had Apparated the three of them out of the vehicle, which they all glimpsed still in the air, burning mid-spin.

Then, as if a giant hand had caught it in mid-air, it stopped completely, landed softly on the grass, and had its burning engine doused. Snape rolled out of the passenger seat, ducked under a curse that came his way, then crouched, edging by the car.

Hermione and Draco had their wands out, the blonde stashing his mp3 player back in his sweater pocket. More spells zoomed past. Harry's first thought was that they had terrible aim.

"Quickly! Head for cover!" Lorcan commanded. He stood, albeit recklessly, as spells flew past from the opposite side of the road. Soon multiple spells started shooting from the end of his wand. Snape was behind the car, using it as a shield, throwing curses over the car's trunk.

Harry's mind decided to process the gravity of the situation. He leapt up, pushed Hermione out of a swirling jynx's trajectory, and erected a powerful Protean Charm. Four curses bounced off of it without a scratch. More came their way.

Draco was already running for the trees, two rocketing shadows after him. Hermione came to, fished her wand from a holster she'd bought in Zurich, and _Reducto_'ed the _Protego _shield.

"What are you doing?" Harry yelled, his eyes torn between Lorcan and the forest beneath the mountains.

"Go find Draco!" she replied, running towards Lorcan. Two spells came for her, yet two wand swishes later they were soaring back to their casters.

Harry's mind picked up the order, and ran. Lack of physical training left his legs lax, and he stumbled through the underbrush. He heard spells rending the air.

Back by the road, Hermione had joined Lorcan, who glared at her, but decided that punishing the ambushers was more important. Hermione drew lines with her wand and threw a charm in the air, which turned into rain. The next instant, Hermione froze the shower into needles, which rained down on the foliage. The number of spells coming their way halved.

"A right awesome job, Hermione!" Lorcan exclaimed, deflecting curses left and right. He focused on defense, while Hermione worked her magic.

There were others coming from their side, which Snape fended off. Fire erupted from his wand and crashed onto the forest, which caught ablaze. Screams could be heard in the air.

Harry knew the moment red flashed behind him that he couldn't go back at the moment. Fire consumed trees behind him, so he pushed forward.

Another spell zoomed past. He jumped and did a roll, the tree trunk next to the place where he was a second before exploding. He couldn't find his assailant anywhere through the many branches. He knew only one of them was after him.

Ducking behind a different tree, he groped for a satchel he'd stolen from the Swiss Street bank the day before, thrust his hand inside and took out his Invisibility Cloak.

He threw it over himself, stood up and looked over his shoulder. A very tense moment later he saw a complacent head, wearing a mask.

Harry's Stunner shot so fast the wizard didn't act quickly enough. She fell unconscious on the leafy earth. Harry approached the body quickly, panting. His heart drummed in his chest.

She wasn't a Death Eater. She wore a completely different mask: a painted face showing an angry expression.

Harry Transfigured some vines into ropes and tied the woman up quickly, then rushed to where instinct told him Draco was.

The Cloak didn't snag on any loose branches as he zigzagged through the bushes. It flowed smoothly and covered him effortlessly. The only things which indicated his presence were his feet sloshing and rustling against the leafy, muddy earth.

He reached a clearing, and found to wizards looming over a Stunned Draco. Harry knew by the steady rise and fall of Draco's chest that Draco wasn't dead.

Using his invisibility as an advantage, he fired a strong _Rictusempra _towards the first wizard. He collapsed on the ground laughing, a too-loud, restrained laugh.

The second one whirred around and cast an _Everte Statum, _which knocked Harry off his feet. The Cloak came off, alerting the dangerous wizard to his location.

An unknown spell drew closer, and his eyes widened, unable to stop it. He rolled over, leaving his Cloak there, but to no avail. His foot caught the edge of it, and his boot melted. He cried out as the hot rubber burned his toes.

Frustrated, he cast _Fumos _for cover. The clearing was submerged in smoke immediately. He heard the wizard who cursed his boot exclaim a _Finite, _which meant he had two wizards to worry about then. Muttering a curse under his breath, he crawled for his Cloak.

An _Expelliarmus _hit his hand, and his wand shot of his grasp towards the smoke. Two more spells grazed the ground near him, showering him in dirt and dust. Cringing as he dragged his ruined boot, he reached the Invisibility Cloak and once again threw it over himself.

The smoke dissipated, and the two wizards stood at each end of the clearing. Harry lay still, not daring to move. A few blades of grass shifting under his weight could alert the assailants to his location in an instant.

"_Homonum Revelio,_" the man cast in a gruff voice, and his body glowed. The Cloak hid his body, but the mud and grass beneath him caught the light he emitted. The other wizard laughed, and shot a spell straight at him.

A second later and he was across the clearing, bleeding. The spot where he was before was a crater in the ground. His Cloak was undamaged, hanging by a tree branch near where he landed. Draco lay still twenty or so yards from him.

He couldn't stand. He'd broken a few bones. He cursed in his head, blaming himself for going easy on them. He felt stupidly hopeless.

"Think you could outspell us, could you?" one of the wizards said as they approached him. He looked down at Harry like he was a dead lizard on a sidewalk. He smirked.

He sat on his ankles, took a fistful of Harry's hair and pulled him up to his level. Harry cried out, his eyes tearing up.

"A handsome little punk, are ye?" the man said contemptuously. Harry could tell the man had many plans for him, plans that he sometimes saw in his nightmares. He forced his eyes closed.

His eyes alight with malice, he spat at Harry's face.

A second later, his carotid was sliced. Harry was showered in blood.

"You don't get to fucking touch him ever again," the blonde said dangerously, his cloak still billowing from his rapid descent. "He's mine."

Virgil twisted the man's neck, and it made a sickening snap.

Harry didn't know whether to feel confused, very angry or very relieved. Virgil looked liked a fantasy and a nightmare come true. Even in Harry's pounding head, that sounded utterly silly and romantic. He wanted to pummel the vampire and kiss him at the same time. He also wanted to cower from Virgil's frightening appearance. His hurting body added to his perplexed state.

Virgil scooped him up as delicately as possible. His body protested, and he cursed under his breath. Virgil chuckled lowly. Across the field Harry saw the other wizard unconsciously lying on the ground.

"I'm not going to have to rescue you all the time, am I?" Virgil said jokingly. Harry glared at him.

"Fuck you."

**A/N: Yes, review. Or you won't know what happens next. (Sticks his tongue out)**


	8. Not So Back to Normal in Austria

**Here's the next installment to Bloody Positive! Thanks to all those death threats in review form and the praise. I really appreciate it. ALSO! If you want to see some signatures of Bloody Positive, visit my gallery here: http: / the - dark - arts . net / forums / ?showtopic=91173 (remove spaces)  
**

Virgil had _Rennervated_ Draco's limp body back to consciousness. The blonde stirred, got up and looked around in confusion, before looking at both of them.

"What happened, Potter?" Draco asked, his hand on his hurting head. He shifted his gaze from them towards the end of the clearing. Smoke billowed from the other side of the forest.

"Can you stand?" Virgil asked. He was still carrying Harry, who was trying to free himself from Virgil's arms. He glared at the vampire once again.

"I said, let me go, Virgil," he growled.

Virgil turned to him, his expression serious. "You're hurt, Harry. The blood vessels below your left ribcage are compromised. You have a few broken bones."

Harry's eyes pierced through the vampire's stubbornly. "Do I look like I care, Virgil? Let me go. Now."

Virgil's expression softened. "Harry ... No."

They argued like this until they returned to the road. Virgil didn't let Harry walk and Harry didn't spare Virgil a glance. Harry didn't admit how his skin felt electrified at the long sought-after contact with the boy, and Virgil didn't voice how warm he felt with Harry.

"Harry ..." Virgil pleaded weakly, but Harry didn't say anything back.

Lorcan was the first to spot them. Snape and Hermione had rounded up a lot of stunned bodies. It seemed like their attackers outnumbered them four to one. Hermione was looking disheveled, checking each person for any identification or weapon.

"Virgil!" Lorcan exclaimed in surprise, "you got here quicker than I expected."

Virgil nodded to him as he gently laid Harry into the useless Audi. His fingers went up to touch his single earring lightly. It was a small silver cross with a tiny ruby in its center.

"I tried to get to you as soon as I can," he said, ignoring Harry's protest this time as he dumped Harry's feet in the Audi as well. "Your communication earrings worked perfectly."

Another glance of worry from Virgil and "Master, Harry's injured pretty badly."

"I am not …" Harry weakly protested. He threw another petulant glare at Virgil. He hated feeling weak, this recent altercation making him feel more awake and invigorated than he ever had the past few weeks, and more sensitive to how useless he had been to their party. Granted, a few minutes ago he was going to be taken away, and possibly killed or sold.

"Draco," Snape said tersely, "attend to the boy, will you?"

Draco dug into his cloak for some essence of Dittany and Skele-Gro, and then ducked into the car.

"Severus?" Lorcan addressed, walking towards the car and the group of unconscious wizards.

"Twenty one of them. Different ethnicities. They're all vampires," Severus replied. Hermione had taken their wands and miscellaneous items and thrown them onto a pile.

"They all have similar tattoos on their backs, reminiscent of the dark mark," Hermione added, wiping her hands on her dirtied blouse. She looked slightly shaken.

"What did they look like?" Lorcan said after a while, though by the sound of it he already knew the answer. Harry couldn't quite catch their conversations from inside the car, and he was quickly getting even more frustrated. His left side was starting to throb madly, and his head was pounding harder.

After a few quick diagnostic spells, Draco thrust two vials in his heaving chest, transfigured a rock outside into a goblet, and then poured some Skele-Gro into it from their Potions stores in the trunk.

"Drink the glassy, orange one first. That will hopefully stop the internal bleeding. It's magnificent, that potion. Uncle Sev invented it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh joy," he said.

"Just drink it so you won't die," Virgil said despondently from the other car door.

"What if I don't want to?" he said challengingly, drinking it anyway after a gripping sort of pain shot through his left side. For some reason beyond Harry's usual sense he had decided to be as much of a nuisance to Virgil as he could possibly can. Virgil placed a hand on his shoulder and he moved slightly so that it dropped off him.

"Now," Draco said, fishing another vial from his cloak. "Drink this one immediately after ingesting the Skele-Gro. It will accelerate the bone-growing process."

"Let me guess," Harry said on a whim, "did Uncle Sev make that one, too?"

Draco grinned. "Not this time. I made this. I've yet to patent it, however. Although I did sell some in the Swiss apothecaries. Got me enough to buy that mp3."

Without further comment, Harry downed the Skele-Gro and the glimmering potion after it, cringing at the unpleasant combination of tastes. The pain of bone regrowth came sooner that he expected it, and he howled, doubling over in pain. Virgil crept inside the busted Audi and took half of Harry onto his lap, holding the teen as he shivered and groaned in pain.

Outside, Hermione told them what the tattoos looked like.

"A lethifold. It couldn't have been anything else. And it was surrounded by runic inscriptions. Something about a legion of warriors," she was clearly on edge about the attack still, by the way her voice dithered.

Lorcan looked at her, impressed yet slightly worried, before telling them who they were. "It's a rival clan. The Legion. They've been after our castle for centuries, and tension has been increasing ever since summer solstice."

"Why is that?" Hermione asked, ever curious. A cold breeze had picked up in the dull October overcast, and she wrapped her arms around herself and her threadbare clothing.

"That is because our clan has reached its anniversary of fruition. This year, our oracles are trying to See the next scion of our race."

"And what does that occurrence have to do with our recent ambush?" Severus interjected.

"The only thing I could think of is that someone knows how to locate us. This would be very dangerous if it were the case. They have a blood contract with the Dark Lord, and it would not do well to be captured by them."

Lorcan looked at the wizards calculatingly. "Virgil," he called.

A few moments later Virgil appeared out of the Audi. "Master?"

"We're setting camp for the night. Right here, next to the car. Harry needs a better place to sleep in so he will take the back seat. Try and see if you can do anything about the car's engine."

Lorcan was glad that his Childe had come back. More than anything he wanted the mischievous twinkle in Harry's eyes back, for the boy to be back to his stubbornly determined and energetic self, and that would only be solved by a night in Virgil's presence.

Without any fuss, except another glance towards the inside of the car, the vampire went towards the hood and examined the damage. Inside, Harry was unconscious, the two blondes having decided to Stun him to sleep. He wouldn't be awake until late in the night.

Lorcan turned to Snape and Hermione. "Hermione, I need you to set up the usual wards. Make them as strong as possible. I'll come help you later to reinforce the magic with some more defenses that I know of.

"Severus, we need to talk. We'll devise a plan of interrogation for these captives. We need to be done with them by tomorrow."

HP

It was early October, and fall in Hogwarts had never looked more serene and peaceful. The students wished the same could be said about the school in itself, but they're not allowed to speak their mind about a lot of things.

Albus Dumbledore, in a stroke of inner desperation, had resigned from his position as Headmaster, so that he could focus more on the Order of the Phoenix, and gathering intelligence, stopping and preventing Death Eater attacks, gaining prospective and some modicum of control over the British Ministry of Magic, and most important of all, reining in the Boy-Who-Escaped.

In a radical change of staff, Minerva McGonagall was appointed the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Albus Dumbledore assumed his early position as Transfigurations, and the Ministry, through the help of the school board, had successfully pushed Dolores Umbridge back into the faculty, as the High Principal.

The students, most notably Harry's year, had been quite negatively vocal with the Headmaster's decisions. If their suspicions about the ex-Headmaster's motives for resignation were correct, there would be no reason for Dumbledore to allow for the Ministry to instate a power figure in Hogwarts. If he was trying to release the shackles that threaten to enchain the covertly corrupt Ministry, why would he let the prim, sugary-sweet toad back? They knew there was something in the works which forced Dumbledore to do what he did.

Umbridge of course had no tolerance for students out of line, and had therefore reinstated the Inquisitorial Squad, with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson as co-heads. Fifty-two decrees later and Hogwarts had become more of rehabilitating prison than a learning institution.

Under radar, Neville and Luna had restarted the efforts for an underground Defense Army (formerly known as Dumbledore's army) and carefully screened each member to prevent traitorous anomalies from happening.

Ginny Weasley, who was a key member before, had been booted and kept out of the works. The two chose not to inform her of the DA's return.

Representing Hufflepuff House was Susan Bones, who had quite a leadership streak in her, like her aunt. She seemed to have replaced Ginny's previous position, and was working well with Neville and Luna. They met in the Room of Requirement like usual, and no Slytherins were allowed in the DA meetings and operations.

The DA had been divided into committees: Operations and Logistics, Academics and Training, and Outside Intel. Neville, Luna and Susan handled the three committees respectively.

They were on standby for owls from Hermione. The last one, Luna found, had been intercepted and tampered with, but Hermione's quick wit told her to heavily encrypt letters in Runes, which Luna decoded easily.

Neville had been trying to recruit. His demeanor had completely changed over the summer, from the bumbling, spineless wreck of a boy to a war-stricken, confident teenager. Most Gryffindors fourth year and up were in the DA, along with most of Hufflepuff and some Ravenclaws, and Neville had been trying to get the rest into their movement.

Only the first month was over and Umbridge was at her wit's end trying to pinpoint who the masterminds were to the misdemeanors inside Hogwarts.

Luna, through some of Harry's letters, was teaching everyone more complicated magic, and Susan, through some Ministry connections, was trying to devise a plan of action that would ultimately overthrow Umbridge from her position.

The only other issue they had no leads on was one of Harry's serious warnings that Death Eaters would try to break into Hogwarts. They have reinforced all seven passageways they knew of with protection and fortification spells and tripped some of the alarms in the school that warned the staff of outsiders trying to get in, in the hopes that the staff would raise Hogwarts' security magic.

For now the students were barely scraping by, in the hopes that Harry and the others would do something to save them from the oppression.

HP

It was nightfall, and a campfire was set near the car. From the road, an ordinary Muggle driving by and looking their way would see a very large boulder, a few yards away from some suspiciously burnt trees.

It was silent as well. Snape had fashioned a roofed fort to house the captives, keeping all of them in a stasis spell. When they were ready to interrogate, they would release one of them with a _Finite,_ and then _Rennervate_ them into consciousness. Some reacted very violently, even threatening to use their magic to make themselves explode, while other reacted calmly and rationally, using diversionary tactics and manipulation to ease their way out of the mess they've put themselves into.

But Snape and Lorcan were having none of it. They were trained to detect subtle manipulation and empty threats, and knew how to react accordingly. It was a long night, and there was still a long ways to go before they got all the information they needed.

By the campfire was Hermione, who was looking distant as she stared at the fire. Draco, after applying some more essence of Dittany to the rest of Harry's wounds, walked back to the campfire and sat by Hermione.

In the car, Virgil had found a way for the both of them to be able to lie down in peace. He had chosen to let Harry sleep directly on him so that they would fit, and Virgil was vastly satisfied with himself for that decision.

He had openly admitted to himself that he was a wreck without Harry. He knew that he had grown irrevocably attached to Harry over the short time they had met all those weeks ago, and now, feeling Harry's breath against his neck and his beating heart against his own chest left him feeling incredibly dim-witted and inconsiderate for agreeing to Goshawk's proposal in the first place.

He saw how Harry looked. Harry was sallow and irritable. Virgil was pretty sure he had lost a bit of weight. He couldn't bring himself to believe that he had been the reason for Harry doing this to himself, but here was the evidence, the dead weight of a light, wiry, beautiful boy spread on his chest. It made Virgil wonder if Harry felt the same way he did for the teen, that Harry, despite his utter insensitivity and thoughtlessness, loved him the way his heart soared for the raven-haired boy.

Virgil buried his nose in Harry's hair and wrapped his arms around the teen's slim frame. It wouldn't do for him to ever let the boy go this time. He just loved the boy too much.

Harry for his part was having an unusual dream. He was, first of all, quite aware it was a dream, and could actually think rationally. In fact right then he was thinking why he wasn't seeing into Voldemort's nightly life, why instead of the creeping darkness he felt warm and cozy.

Then he remembered that before he fell unconscious, Virgil had returned.

This time, without any of his physical senses blocking his judgment, he thought about his return.

He certainly was glad Virgil was back, and safe for the matter. He looked the same as ever, all muscle and cockiness, and that unfailing worry he always wore on his face whenever Harry was hurt or in trouble, the same expression that Harry thought he absolutely did not deserve.

It was as if all those days ago didn't happen, and they were in the Leaky Cauldron, Harry sleeping close to Virgil, through a night with uncertainty yet full security.

And now he saw not the torture of Muggles, the plotting and the disturbing thoughts, but a clear, calm dark lake in his mind.

It reminded him of the Lake at Hogwarts: the surrounding trees, the shape of the encircling bank, the stones and deposits by the lake. There was however, something different in the nostalgic scene. In the scene that could've have been nightfall, a small, pin-like light glowed in the middle of the lake.

It was calling to him, but Harry had no voice to call back, nor had he anything to indicate he had heard the light. It was a blast of realization when he realized that he was already in the water, walking towards it. Fear and trepidation gripped him, but his legs carried him still.

Soon, it was only his head visible on the surface, and a few more steps had him completely submerged.

He can see the light from underwater, floating just above the surface. He was treading now, but with all the kicks he made he couldn't seem to break the surface. He turned desperate, kicking and pushing himself up with all his might, but to no avail.

He couldn't hold his breath any longer. He was going to die. He would drown. His muscles started to ache, his mind keeping his lungs from inhaling water.

And then his body gave up.

But the oddest sensation was made immediately clear to him. He was swimming under water, but he was also breathing in it. Odd, he thought, yet he felt relieved. He didn't want to die in his sleep.

With a few more kicks the surface opened up and allowed him to reach for air. He shook his hair as his limbs kept him afloat, then looked up and saw the light. Transfixed, he slowly reached for it, until his fingers were barely an inch—

Harry jerked awake in Virgil's arms, startling Virgil out of his musings.

"Harry, you're—"he started, but the words were left on his lips when he saw Harry was faintly glowing. Harry, after waking, didn't make a fuss about their positions in the Audi.

"Virge," he said blearily, looking up from Virgil's chest. "Hey."

Virgil broke into a grin at how innocent and radiant Harry looked, despite of course the unusual aura surrounding Harry.

"Harry," he said breathlessly, "you're glowing."

Harry chuckled, wrapping an arm behind Virgil's arm and shoulder. "That has got to be the sappiest thing you've said, hands down."

"No—really, you are. Look," he said, and took Harry's hand so the teen could see. He was indeed, radiating a faint halo, like his skin had been covered by some luminescent substance.

"That's … strange," he said absentmindedly, his focus returning to Virgil's face.

"Are you alright, Harry?" he asked, in that concerned tone that Harry secretly loved hearing.

Harry smiled a breathtaking smile, settled his head back on Virgil's chest, and nodded solemnly.

"Never better, Virgil."

HP

They were prepared to leave the next day. Harry and Virgil had a wonderful night sleeping in each other's arms, and when morning came Harry was chipper and more personable.

In the end they Stunned a passing pickup truck driver, loaded their belongings in the vehicle and set off to the Swiss-Austrian border for Innsbruck, Tyrol. They didn't stop over Vaduz for they needed to reach Stygian's Keep as early as possible.

Virgil had asked what Lorcan and Snape had found out from the captives (who were now in wandering the mountains _Obliviated_) and was met with unsettling news.

The fragile treaty between Lorcan's coven and the Legion had been officially breached, and any vampire outside the Keep was fair game. Aside from that, You-Know-Who had ordered them to focus their efforts on terminating Lorcan's coven, placing importance on the elimination of Lorcan himself and Virgil.

As for any intelligence regarding You-Know-Who's growing army, the two older wizards found nothing out from the captives. They were of lower rank in the Legion's hierarchy, and were not privy to any inside information.

They arrived at Innsbruck, crossing over to Austria after two days of travel, and found it fruitless to stay for long. They restocked on whatever it was that they lacked in supplies, and were already on their way to Salsburg.

Harry and Virgil, to everyone's amusement except Snape, couldn't spend even a second away from each other. They always bickered and quarreled. Contrary to their first night back together however, Harry had been very careful not to show affection for Virgil, much to the frustration of the vampire. It was because Harry was still very much aggravated with Virgil for leaving without saying goodbye. Virgil had made clear that nothing happened between Miranda Goshawk and himself, but Harry found it hard to believe, with that imperious slut of a woman.

Everyone else knew what was going on between them. Draco had made a rather blatant comment over dinner one time to just 'make up and snog it out' which made Harry go beet red and Virgil really uncomfortable. It was then clear to everyone that the both of them did not have an inkling as to what to do with their current 'relationship'.

Hermione tried to help, with her methodological approach. She talked to Harry about something along the lines of 'looking inside you' and 'pinpointing your inner emotion'. Harry in turn had confided in her something he was really embarrassed to admit, which was that on multiple occasions he had wanted to kiss the vampire senseless.

One such occasion was when they were in a Muggle shop buying some clothes, and Virgil had bought a warm, not particularly fashionable green sweater a size too small for him. When Harry asked why he bought it:

"I … it's starting to get colder out and I uhh … didn't want you to freeze. And the color kinda matches your eyes, don't you think?"

Draco thought it was hideous. Harry however wore it and had it cleaned almost everyday, though he didn't voice his thanks. It _was _getting rather chilly in Austria, and for that, nights were spent with Harry curled up beside Virgil, with neither of them being particularly chatty.

Harry didn't say anything whenever he offered his neck to Virgil each night. Virgil would protest and tell him that he could live rather well without any blood, but Harry would glare at him until he gave in and bit down.

Harry found each feeding as pleasurable as the first one, though he had taken great lengths not to show how much he enjoyed it. He had finally managed to not cream his pants after each time, but it left him feeling terribly aroused and frustrated after.

Virgil could smell Harry's excitement and taste it in his blood and skin, heady and intoxicating. Harry looked sinfully, perfectly debauchable each night, and it took every inch of his being not to claim him after he had taken his fill. He didn't even allow the lightest of kisses to occur between them, for fear of overstepping his boundaries.

Harry wouldn't do anything because he always misinterpreted Virgil's behavior, which was his rigid body movements and failure to meet his eyes, as disinterest and discomfort. Virgil on the other hand would never want to hurt or take advantage of Harry with his advances without Harry's full consent and reciprocation. It was this twisted misunderstanding that left the both of them feeling exhausted, frustrated and pent up with anger, longing and arousal, as they arrived in Salsburg.

The Seven Styx was a popular pub and inn, much like the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, where witches and wizards of different nationalities, blood and creature mix came and went. It was here where Lorcan arranged for the three others of their kind to meet with them, before setting out together for Stygian's Keep.

It was dingy and roughly decorated, yet the cheery laughter and chatting that filled the pub made it warm and inviting. They followed Lorcan through some tables, where Harry noticed some patrons recognize the older vampire. Even the barman knew him, evident when Lorcan simply nodded and the barman gestured to the stairs.

Their shrunken luggage in tow, they climbed up the narrow stairs into a hall full of doors. Lorcan could somehow tell which door was for theirs to enter, and simply made his way towards the one at the very end.

When they entered, the lights blew out and Harry was slammed against the wall. His glasses were skewed and his brain jarred, and his heartbeat rose in panic. Virgil had _Lumos _at the tip of his wand in an instant, with Draco and Hermione doing the same after.

Two figures sat on an overstuffed chair, a male who had his legs crossed, smoking a fag, and a woman, sitting on one of the arm rests, an arm lazily draped on the chair's backrest.

"Harry!" Virgil exclaimed, "Rio, I swear if you don't let him go—"

But Lorcan held up a hand to stop him from advancing. Harry was pinned against the wall by a lithe, young man of around fifteen years old, brown, tousled hair and wickedly glinting eyes.

"Who are you and why are you wearing that ring!" the vampire demanded, baring his fangs. "Answer me!"

"Rio," Lorcan said in a calm yet authoritative tone, "let Harry go. He's an ally."

"Oh really?" Rio said in a overly suspicious tone. "Have you thoroughly screened him? Gone through his government files and hospital documents? He could be an assassin. He could kill you in your sleep!"

Lorcan sighed in a way that told the other this happened man on the couch snickered to himself.

"He tends to be overly vigilant and paranoid," he said to them, before turning back to the vampire and Harry, who was quickly losing breath, and blood in his arms.

"Rio," he said, in a deeper, more commanding voice, which Harry noticed made Virgil stand at attention, "let him go. _Now_."

Rio looked from his Master to Harry and back, before releasing the flabbergasted boy. Harry coughed in an attempt to breathe more properly.

Rio mumbled something sounding like an apology, dusting Harry off, and Lorcan nodded.

Virgil was glaring at the man on the couch. "You knew he'd jump one of them, didn't you? That's why you didn't brief Rio with the situation."

Rio was quick to notice Virgil's presence, and immediately winced at Virgil's irate tone. He quickly went back to the chair and sat on the other armrest, glaring at the wooden floor.

The room was dark, and somewhat gave the three vampires a formidable appearance. The man in the middle was particularly fixated with Harry.

"Dante, I hope you got a good laugh out of your silly prank, because that would be the last time it would happen," Lorcan reprimanded. "I wouldn't like it if any of my charges ended up having their heads snapped or their bloods splayed all over the walls."

Hermione and Draco felt nervous then. Snape however, only stared at the three bloodsuckers indifferently.

"Of course," the vampire called Dante said, in a tone of bored amusement. "Won't happen again, I swear."

Lorcan looked over to the woman, who had said nothing up to this point. "Germaine. You're looking as lovely as ever."

She was donning combat boots, leather, piercings and purple highlights. Granted, she was a beautiful sight, with her porcelain skin and vibrant copper eyes.

"Lord Lorcan. I see you've brought your little pets," she said in an aristocratic tone not matching her style.

Lorcan didn't know what to say to that. "They're to be treated as equals, Germaine. Not wizards of lower caliber."

Germaine nodded, her expression not one of acquiescence. "Understood."

There was an awkward silence as the wizards present in the room sized each other up, broken only when Lorcan decided to point to the other side of the hall, towards rooms where they would be sleeping for the night. Snape and Lorcan would take one room, Hermione and Draco would sleep in the other, while Harry and Virgil would take the last one.

Virgil and Harry made their way quickly to their rooms and settled in, Harry taking to the bathroom to shower.

"He's the Boy-Who-Lived, then?" Dante said curiously, peering over glasses similar to Harry's own. he was leaning casually against the door to their room.

Virgil stiffened, and looked at Dante suspiciously. "What's it to you then, Dante?"

Dante, angelic his face was, changed his expression into a classic smirk. "Nothing for you to worry our knickers about. He doesn't look bad. Not bad at all."

He then went back to their rooms with his hands in his pockets, his demeanor laid back yet completely refined. Virgil glared at his retreating form, slightly aware yet uneasy as to what's to come.

HP

**Review lovelies! They keep me happy and writing the next chapters :). And they're stepping stones to Harry and Virgil finally getting it on.**


	9. Passage

**Long overdue. Ready?**

HP

"I don't understand why we have to sneak out to do this," Draco said, as he followed Hermione out of the inn.

"We don't want Harry finding out what we're about to do," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "He doesn't like being excluded."

They walked through a few alleyways, Draco looking absolutely abhorred at the filth he was seeing plaguing the streets, and Hermione intent on getting there as soon as possible.

Finally, they reached what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse, and Hermione saved no hesitation and walked through the open, rusty gate.

It was dark. The building was derelict, and by the looks of it, seemed to be an abandoned printing assembly line. Hermione and Draco fumbled blindly past different machinery parts, until they reached the very center of the work space.

Lorcan, his face calm and welcoming, stood at the other side of a circle drawn onto the ground, which was lined with candles. They burned with different colors.

"The circle's loaded with Runes …" Draco whispered, and almost immediately Hermione answered.

"It's a ceremonial glyph," she breathed. They stopped in front of the circle, not knowing what to do. "Vampires use it for rituals."

"Draco, Hermione," Lorcan said in that voice that the two Hogwartians had quickly grown accustomed to through the weeks of tutoring, "You have proven to be invaluable allies. Not only to our kin, but to Harry Potter."

Hermione did not know what to say, but Draco started. "I tread the path of the aforementioned, share his pain and glory, shed tears and blood, and would do so until the end of my days, as we had so called upon the ancient magicks to bind us."

Hermione stared at him, surprised and a bit frustrated with her sudden lapse of knowledge. Draco stared back.

"I invoked a pureblood ritual on Harry weeks prior, solidifying my subservience to him," he said.

"_What?__" _said Hermione. "Why wasn't I aware of this?"

Draco shook his head in amusement. "It really isn't something that people share. And I thought you'd declared your alliance to Harry."

Hermione huffed. "I _have_. But involving magic seems all the more momentous."

"Well you've got to say something," Draco said. Both of them looked at Lorcan, who was patiently waiting.

"Um, all right then …" Hermione struggled to find the words, but managed to not take too long. "I walk with the aforementioned, share his perplexity and wisdom, shed tears and blood, and would do so until the end of my days, as I plan to invoke the ancient magicks to bind us in time."

"Very well," Lorcan said, impressed. "I call upon the fire which transcends reality, the smoke which penetrates barriers, and the soot from which all came."

The candlelights roared to life, illuminating the whole warehouse. The two young wizards' eyes widened.

Lorcan beckoned for them to step into the circle. With what could only be Gryffindor courage and Slytherin ambition, the two did so.

"Allies to allies are allies unbound. Grant these souls the honor and power, that which Stygians would recognize, as bright and lustrous as Prometheus' flame," said Lorcan, in a voice which called a fierce, immaterial wind to sweep over them. They felt themselves, or what they could only describe as their souls, pass through a heavy veil, immersing both of them in singing, wild magic. Hermione felt her mind being tugged in a million directions, while Draco felt his eyes burn, as if tiny wasps were stinging them repeatedly.

And then, as soon as the bright light and the heady magic materialized, they vanished, and the candles calmed, and their colors were back to a uniform orange. The circle, glowing intensely bright a moment ago, returned to coal black, and the Runes lacing the figures had disappeared.

Lorcan smiled from outside the circle. "Well done," he said.

"What happened," was Hermione's first words, in a tone that was not accusing or panicked, but rather simply, deeply curious. Draco stood beside her, rubbing his eyes.

"You've been granted access to Stygian's Keep," Lorcan said shuffling towards them. "You've been approved by the ancients, and been bestowed talents no normal wizard would have.''

"Vampire talents, then?" Draco said, opening and closing his eyes, and Lorcan hugged the both of them fiercely.

"Yes," he said. "Present me your left hands."

Both of them did, and were surprised to find a small Rune at the back of their palms.

"What do mean?" Draco said.

"Mine is a symbol for … knowing," she said, and looked up at Lorcan.

"Tell me, what do you know about me, Hermione?" Lorcan said.

And just like that Hermione thought he knew everything he could possibly know about the vampire. Four thousand three hundred fifteen years old, height six four, had a history of heart problems in his family, died and was reborn in a barn, fought in the second world war, could speak fourteen languages … the list went on forever, even the most complicated things such as how many atomic particles comprised Lorcan's body, and Hermione didn't know where to start—

Except, she didn't remember anything anymore, just as she had realized that Lorcan had stepped out of the circle.

"Just as I had thought," he said. "Did you forget everything?"

Hermione just nodded, dumbfounded, her eyes glinting with even more interest.

"This … distance, the radius of the ceremonial circle … anything within this radius from you, you would know everything about it."

"Everything? But that's …" said Hermione, but she was too flabbergasted to speak.

"That is a very powerful talent, Hermione," said Lorcan. "Near omniscience, even as restricted as that, is formidable, and highly corrupting. It does, however, have its limits."

"I will make sure not to drown in its power then," Hermione said firmly. It was a very dangerous and terrifying skill, and it threatened to overwhelm her just as she was standing there. She understood _everything,_at least, everything within the circle's radius from her. It was unnerving how she knew the very fabric of existence of the matter around her, and every governing law which binds the physical and magical world, just by being exposed to matter and magic.

"We're going to pass Virgil later, and he's very unhappy," Draco said, startled by what he had just said. Hermione knew without a second thought what was written on the back of Draco's palm, and what power the ancient magics gave him.

"It says seeing, the Rune on your hand," she said. "You can see into the near future."

"Ah," Lorcan said, "a divinatory gift. One that the elders would know doubt take an interest in when we arrive in Stygian's Keep."

"The future?" Draco said, in a tone that suggested he wasn't so happy about it.

"It would prove invaluable to the clan, Draco," Lorcan said, gazing at him intently. "And it will be a great advantage to Harry's cause."

Draco nodded, but still seemed a bit nervous being granted such enormous power.

"Although, I must warn you," Lorcan abruptly started. "The magic would be gone when we step out of the Circle, and would only be there to be used on dire situations. You would be able to use them freely in the Keep. Otherwise, do not count on the magic recurring for your benefits alone."

Both of them nodded solemnly, and got another fierce hug in return.

HP

Harry woke up with the usual arm slung lazily around his waist, and air coming from a soft snore lightly touching his skin. It was in this position which Harry wanted to wake up in everyday, because of the lazy contentment it always made him feel. Harry stared at the hand in front of him, twitching just barely every now and then when Virgil's dreams took an unexpected turn. Harry smiled.

He curled further into Virgil's warm and welcoming form, burying his head into the fluffy pillow it was on, and taking Virgil's hand with one of his own. Harry had always expected vampires to be cold and hard, frozen in time by the ill-fated immortality they were brought upon, but meeting Virgil changed all of that. When it was between them, Virgil never hesitated to touch him in a comforting way, to wrap his arms around him, like he knew that deep inside Harry always craved the warmth. The little orphan in Harry would reach out, the feeling of abandonment and loneliness washed away by Virgil.

He didn't have the connection to Voldemort whenever he fell asleep next to the young vampire. He didn't know what to make of that. For one, he didn't have any informative letters to send to Fred and George, who had been doing a spectacular job guiding the Order into foiling Death Eater plans. Before he had lost the connection, the dreams had already become less informative, and Voldemort had become less inclined towards sharing any of his plans to his minions until the very last moment before they were executed. In that sense it made Harry quite useless, and it made him wonder whether going with Lorcan in the first place was a good idea.

On the other hand, he had never slept this good in two years. Ever since Cedric Diggory's death, his usual, negligible nightmares of his mother's screams and his father's firm to wavering pleas had escalated, to terrifying wails, flashes of green everywhere, bodies of friends dropping and Voldemort's scarlet eyes. And then his godfather died, and a rekindled joy, a family friend, one of the only close connections he had to his parents, and one he treated _like_ a father, was torn from him mercilessly, and another piece of his heart was stomped on, never to be healed again. It was as if destiny loved the idea of giving him someone to love, and then taking it from him in the worst possible way imaginable for him: in which he was helpless, in which it was his fault.

Virgil made all those seem less like it was his fault, made him less helpless. It was a scary kind of trust he had put into their relationship, because Harry couldn't fathom losing Virgil now.

HP

Harry had been spending less and less time with Hermione and Draco, too caught up they were with keeping up with the sixth year curriculum. Letters came and went from Hogwarts, detailing Potions, Transfigurations and Charms notes. Harry would catch a glimpse of Draco and Snape in a makeshift laboratory, and he would make out the words 'alternative' and 'unexpected' from the Potions professor's mouth as he taught the blonde.

Hermione would be somewhere widely spaced, practicing spells from an ancient book Lorcan gave her. They would chat for a while, but Hermione would come to a point where she was more intent on getting a wand movement right than listening to Harry chatter. It didn't occur to Harry how Lorcan always seemed to provide the right books to them but not to him. He would be stuck with History tomes, particularly ones from Stygian Keep's libraries. He would ask Lorcan how he got the books, and Lorcan would answer that Germaine and Dante had them.

They stayed in the Seven Styx in the meantime, and during that Harry tried to read the large books presented to him. It turned out to be not so boring after all. He had fallen under the assumption that anything that taught History was a walking _Hypnos_spell, due to his lackluster History education at Hogwarts with Professor Binns the ghost, so it came as a pleasant surprise that he could actually apply some of what he had learned in their situation now.

It turned out that they were to enter a different atmosphere altogether the moment they arrive in Stygian's Keep. The surrounding area was saturated in pure, unbridled magic.

Harry read about a complex political hierarchy in the citadel, which was solely based on vampiric abilities such as Sight and magical gifts. The highest positions were filled with elders, vampires who can wield ancient magic and protect the community. They governed over the small community's sustenance, outside interaction and social exchanges.

There were also laws that were to be followed when inside the place, and Lorcan was particularly insistent that Harry learn them. Some of the laws insist certain customs and protocols are to be followed, and a huge bulk outlined in detail the process of succession of positions of power, but Harry was more interested in the laws that forbade certain kinds of magicks from being practiced openly.

It was forbidden to use vampiric magic on non-vampires, unless under threatening situations which required the use of them. Harry read on as different situations were pointed out. As far as the book was concerned however, Harry didn't catch any of those magicks in the tomes. Harry surmised that if any of the magic these ancients wield were on any book, those books are far unlikely to be found in a normal wizarding library.

They dressed casually one day, and wore thinner clothes thanks to the perpetual warming charm inside Seven Styx. Hermione and Draco bickered at the breakfast table despite their new acquaintances. Germaine would shoot lightly disgruntled looks at them, flip her hair and go back to a book she was reading.

Harry immediately pegged Rio as a hyperactive boy. He would often give Lorcan looks whenever Rio's enthusiastic interrogation got too hard-hitting or embarrassing, and Lorcan would give Rio a look that said something like 'down boy' or 'apologize', which Rio would do. Harry liked the little devil. Aside from the knife at the throat the first time they met, Harry didn't feel threatened by him. Of course, it made matters easier that Rio seemed to treat Virgil like an older brother, and he sometimes caught Rio giving them knowing looks.

Harry felt the least cordial with Dante, who seemed not inclined at all to socialize with any of them, even Lorcan. In the middle of the day Harry had approached Lorcan to ask about the mysterious vampire.

"Dante's … not usually like this," Lorcan admitted. "He has a very similar personality to Virgil, now that I think about it. The two of them have quite the history."

"Er … history?" Harry said tentatively, trying to make his voice sound less curious.

"Those two …" Lorcan started, and Harry could tell he was debating whether telling Harry about whatever it was is a good idea. "I Turned them and took them in right around the same time. They had been best friends then."

Harry crossed his arms, hiding much of his curiosity still. "Had been? Why aren't they friends now?"

They were in Lorcan's room, and Harry had noticed when he entered that Snape had divided the room to accommodate the both of them, without any mischievous misdemeanors happening from the vampire's end of the room. Lorcan sat down on a chaise, and Harry stood there, waiting.

"I honestly don't remember. Time passes by so despairingly for our kind, and sometimes we forget how important living everyday to the best of our potentials is, and we often take each day for granted."

He looked at Harry with disturbingly sad, lost eyes, a look that Harry had never seen on the elder vampire before.

"They grew apart, that's what I know of. It happened a long time ago, but it happened so slowly that I almost never took notice of it only until now."

Harry for his part felt like he was missing something. "What's going on, then? Why did you only notice it now?"

Lorcan glanced at him, then towards his fingers. He looked back up at Harry, his eyes searching, then broke eye contact and sighed.

"I skirted explanations when we were attacked. I haven't been entirely honest with you," Lorcan said.

Harry's eyes widened slightly, and his pulse hitched a beat or two. "What do you mean?"

"You know how Draco's and Virgil's hair are similar in shade?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry asked, suddenly confused. Why did they suddenly switch to talking about Draco?

"You noticed how they chased after Draco and kept us at bay while they took him down?" Lorcan asked, looking up at Harry with intense eyes. "They weren't after Draco at all. They thought he was Virgil."

Harry looked at him, some idea slowly dawning in his mind. "You told us your clan's reaching an anniversary of some sort. That they ambushed us because of it."

"That's not entirely false," Lorcan said. "They did intend to kidnap Virgil. We found that out as we interrogated the captives. They wanted to capture Virgil because … he's a candidate."

A candidate? Harry knew Virgil was a fairly old vampire in terms of his immortality, but nevertheless his image of Virgil was of a younger, modern teenager. He acted as though he belonged in Harry's generation, though Harry himself wasn't secure about belonging in his own generation in the first place. If Virgil was going to be a candidate for something, then it wouldn't likely be too significant, will it?

"Our race is trying to foretell who our next leader would be, and Virgil's a probable choice."

And just like that Harry deemed he thought too soon. At that moment however, Snape chose to stride into the room and shoot a aggravated look towards the both of them.

"The Mark. The Dark Lord requires me," he said through gritted teeth. Harry found out at some point that the Dark Mark caused pain to whoever's presence was wanted by Voldemort, and didn't know how much Snape was getting it.

"You really must do something about that idiotic, unprotected mind of yours Potter," he spat. "It's particularly painful, if you seriously need to know. He's magically pulling me towards him."

Lorcan stood up and tried to reach for him, but Snape held his hands up. Lorcan let his hands drop.

"What will you do? He's bound to ask why you've left Hogwarts. You're one of his key assets in the castle." Harry was amazed by how much worry and concern Lorcan's tone held for Snape. Instead of feeling disturbed like he thought he should, he felt oddly awed by the vampire, who always selflessly shows how he feels about Snape. It made him think how much he had been filtering his behavior towards Virgil.

"I'll think of something. I'll have to disappear for now, however," he grit out. He rushed out of the room, and Harry felt the wards of the place shift as Snape Apparated.

Come to think of it, it was only then that Harry realized Snape hadn't actually been leaving to be a professor at Hogwarts. It was further perplexity on Harry's part. What reason would Snape have for travelling with them when he had no such obligation to any of them?

HP

That night, Rio and Virgil had decided to spar at a nearby forest to catch up on old times, leaving Harry, Hermione and Draco at the Styx with the other vampires.

Lorcan had taken Hermione and Draco aside for some long overdue lessons, asking Germaine for assistance on the applied part of what he would teach, and Harry, with nothing to do, went up to the establishment's roof.

The night was cloudless, and since the Wizarding District of Innsbruck was electric-free, the stars shone pretty brightly. Harry stared at them, and, his neck hurting from looking up, he decided to lie down, against a slanting area of tiled roof.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, the sky?" a voice from above him said. In alarm Harry sat up and snapped his head towards the source of the voice. Dante was looking towards the sky, his eyes lost in its dark depth. He sat comfortably, his one leg bent up while an arm rested on the knee.

"Yeah," Harry said nervously, "I guess so."

"There they stand, the innumerable stars, shining in order like a living hymn, written in light," he said softly, awe evident in his face. Harry remembered the day he met Virgil. He was out in the backyard staring at the stars like Dante was. He looked back up. Tonight, Canis Major was prominent, and Harry thought about Sirius.

"Do you play?" Dante asked, his voice smooth and calm.

"Play what?" Harry asked with a sideways glance. Dante moved from his position next to where Harry was lying.

"An instrument. You look like a musician," Dante said. Harry could not believe the vampire was trying to strike up a conversation.

"Um, no, I don't," Harry said. Silence stretched for a few moments, when Harry followed up with another answer. "I wish I could, though. I've always wanted to be able to play something."

The stars seemed unmoving above them. Dante took his wand out, and Harry, seeing it, forced himself to be calm. Dante smiled, and Harry thought the vampire might have sensed his blood rushing a bit faster in his veins.

In front of Harry's eyes the wand glowed, and the space around it shimmered, until the wand was gone, to be replaced by a violin bow. Harry was surprised when he found a partner violin on Dante's shoulder.

"What the—How did you do that?" Harry asked, genuinely astounded.

Dante said nothing, but instead sat up, and played. The tune was what Harry would expect. It was morose and deep, and each slow, smooth stroke of the bow brought out a full, clear sound. Each note glided through to the next without effort, and Harry was transfixed with the music.

Dante looked like he was reading the stars as if the night was a score piece, his face classic and timeless. The music inexorably reminded Harry of everything he had lost. He remembered how the Wizarding World was supposed to be for him when he was eleven: a blissful, desperate way of escape from the torment of his relatives, how that hope had been taken advantage of, and how an even greater burden was set onto his shoulders.

He started crying when once again he was reminded of everyone who had died for him. His parents, Cedric, Sirius … their lives were much more important than his, and certainly less dangerous for others. Why did he have to live when such great people had to die in his name?

It was a broken sob that escaped from his lips which made Dante stop playing.

Dante glanced at him. "You're crying," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Harry wiped at his tears with an arm, slightly embarrassed but grateful. He somehow needed a good cry which no one would see, and Dante was merely a stranger.

"No, thank you … I needed that, I guess …"

"I wish I could cry like you do," Dante said in a serious tone. He was gazing at Harry which such intensity Harry didn't know what to say.

"You do it so beautifully, Harry," he said, and it was the first time Harry heard Dante call him by his name. "I wish our kind had the capability of pouring our souls out then and again."

"You … can't cry?" Harry asked, his voice a bit tight from the groundswell of emotions.

"We can't," Dante replied, looking at the stars again. "All we could do is remember a time when we could."

"Can I ask you something?" Harry said after a while. Dante switched his gaze to the teen, and he once again felt his skin crawling from the intensity of those eyes.

"Lorcan—he told me that you and Virgil used to be friends," Harry said slowly, gauging how much Dante minded him knowing about that piece of information. When he sensed no reaction from the vampire, he continued. "What happened between the both of you?"

Dante stared at Harry for a while, before looking at the inky blackness of the sky. "I loved Virgil like a brother. We used to hunt together, him and me."

Harry let the silence stretch. Dante hadn't answered his question directly. He stared at the particular spot he traced Dante was looking at.

"A prophecy was made. Both of us would become candidates for lordship, and one of us will die when the other succeeds Master Lorcan."

Silently, comprehendingly, Harry understood why Dante divulged that piece of information off so easily. He understood that Harry's life was also based around destiny being set beyond his power or control. Harry thought that it must have been the vampire's longevity that made him less emotionally troubled about it.

"That's horrible …" Harry said after a while.

"I don't want to either of us to die," was all Dante said.

HP

Harry decided to go down from the roof after a few more moments of looking at the night sky, and Dante silently followed behind him. He was about to head to his bedroom when out in the hall, they came across Virgil. The vampire narrowed his eyes in an instant.

"Harry—you've been crying," he said, looking at the boy with alarm, and then glaring at Dante.

"What did you do?" he demanded, and in a flash he had Dante pinned against a wall by the throat.

"Virgil! He didn't do anything!" Harry exclaimed, angry that Virgil would jump to conclusions. "Let him go!"

"But," Virgil started, "why were you crying?"

"It's none of your business! Stop getting into every bloody business of mine," he said loudly, before stomping into his room. His current distress of being reminded of his past getting the better of his judgment, he had brusquely directed his pent up energy at Virgil. Despite that, he was too stubborn to come out and apologize, and had resigned himself with going to bed early.

Outside the room, Virgil's elbow slackened against Dante's neck, and he looked like he was slapped in the face. He stepped away from Dante, his head bowed, and left the hall.

Harry didn't sleep well that night, and the visions returned.

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_The Dark Lord smirked, his loyal Death Eaters in a tight circle around his throne. Their faces were masks of indifference, perfected through years of training, yet somehow each façade held different amounts of certain emotions such as fear and trepidation._

"_The spies have reached their marks, my Lord," said a gruff voice._

"_Delightful," he said silkily. "I just might spare you, Mulciber."_

"_Yet as it were, we still lack staying power in this war. My work, as far as I'm concerned, has been fulfilled. I have spared you all, and set you free from that cage they threw you in."_

_He stroked the arm of the throne, and Harry took a moment to realize it was Nagini._

_:I shall take back what is mine in due time, Nagini,: he hissed. :I will reawaken, wholler and more powerful.:_

_He inched his head slightly, facing the other arc of the circle. "What say you, Lucius?"_

_The man with blonde fringes around his mask started, and then bowed. "My Lord. As you asked, my associates and I have approached Syre Vassilisus. He has asked for a rather … unfeasible recompense for the Legion's alliance."_

_The Dark Lord was wordless, a sign that Lucius had better elaborate._

"_They ask that, in exchange for their support, they are given dominion of Stygian's Keep."_

_The Lord narrowed his eyes at the blonde. He had encountered the mythical castle multiple times in his studies of ancient tomes and grimoires. The castle in the east, the impenetrable citadel suspended in the center of a mountain-hidden lake._

"_Have you knowledge of why they wish for this recompense?" The Dark Lord asked, without any trace of emotion. It was in these situations that the Death Eaters were even more fearful. The Dark Lord's unpredictability when devoid of emotions was pure terror to them._

"_No, my Lord, I did not pry for fear that they would reject our—"_

"_Crucio!" the Dark Lord hissed without skipping a beat. The regal, dignified stature of Lucius Malfoy was brought to the ground, in a violently writhing pile._

"_You find other ways, Lucius! You find other ways!" the Dark Lord hissed scathingly, and each piercing cry from the Malfoy patriarch elicited winces from the other Death Eaters. The man was sweating, coughing blood, and gasping for air as he fought the tremors the curse left in his body's nerves when the Dark Lord was done._

"_The Keep," he said, standing up and, with a billow of robes, heading towards a high window and looking out into a dead, dense forest._

"_For so long I have tried to penetrate its recesses. I dare say it is as elusive as Hogwarts, but that old castle's already been infiltrated …"_

_They stood stock still for some time, the only sign of movement being the flickering of the shadows against the walls, cast by the torches._

_The Keep was impenetrable by non-vampyric blood, unless the magic is invoked by a blood heir. He was planning on using the D'eath boy to enter, but the vampire was taken from his clutches by Dumbledore's pest of a pawn._

"_The spy, Nott," the Dark Lord barely spoke, but in the silence of the chamber nothing was unheard. Everyone started, and Nott's heartbeat picked up._

"_Yes, my Lord?" he said nervously._

"_You would have the spy assist in completing this contract, along with the intended purpose of this infiltration. Do not fail me."_

"_Yes, my Lord."_

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Harry awoke with a jolt, the same feeling of being hit with a freight train whenever a particular torture got too intense. The sheets were soaked in his sweat, and he was sobbing. He didn't think he'd ever get used to a Muggle being torn apart. In the visions, he had no eyelids to close, nor a head and neck to turn his view away. He was forced to watch everything, until the curse scar woke him from extreme pain.

Somehow, this was different. He felt like the shadows in the room were flames, and they were licking at his skin. He felt like he was burning alive, and he thrashed in pain.

Entirely entrenched in his suffering, he didn't immediately feel the presence of a body pulling him close and encircling him in a fierce hug. Fingers ran through his hair and a soothing voice murmured in his ear, until slowly the wracking pain dissipated into a dull ache in his forehead.

"You're all right, Harry … you're all right …" Virgil whispered, silent and anxious, and Harry cried in his chest. Consciousness took over and he felt anguish. He hated feeling so helpless and terrified all the time, but that boundless comfort and warmth from Virgil always fought the terror away, and sometimes he even thought about subjecting himself in the pain so he could experience the security that followed after. He knew it was stupid for him to think, but he realized now that he couldn't ever live normally without having Virgil with him at nights.

"Virgil … I'm s-sorry," Harry whispered, his throat hoarse and dry. Virgil understood him immediately. "I didn't mean it … I hate myself for being angry at you all the time when all you've ever thought about is my well-being and …"

"Shush," Virgil muttered back, his face buried in Harry's neck. "I don't mind if you're ever angry at me. Just please … I don't like seeing you like this. Please let me be with you."

Harry just nodded. He ignored the horror etched in his mind, focusing his senses on the vampire against him. Virgil … Harry had never met such a person who cared. That was the reason why sometimes he was just too overwhelmed. Virgil was so foreign to him, and a newer fear was developing, that maybe Virgil won't be with him for long.

His arms around the vampire's neck, he leaned away and, in the dark, sought the blonde's lips with his own. Virgil's arms tightened around his waist as they shared a long kiss, and the both of them could feel all the emotions that poured into it. Virgil tasted better than he had imagined, his lips pliant yet slightly rough, not too insisting but eager and daring.

They drew back after a while, lost in each other's thoughts, breathing heavily. Wordlessly, the both of them lay back in bed, Virgil wrapping his arms around Harry once again. They faced each other, and despite the dark Harry could make out Virgil's face, staring back at him with affection, and he found himself falling back to sleep, his haunting dreams forgotten.

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**Note: Dante's little quote about the stars is by N.P. Willis.**


End file.
